#it's sort of him moving out of the house. clearing everything out | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gglitch1dd · 5 months

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Angry Dilfs- Kirishima Eijiro

Yakuza DILF Kirishima Eijiro x Wifey Reader

Context: Your daughter comes to you broken and in need of comfort, but afterwards, all your husband can see is red

Note: this oneshot is based off of Yakuza Eijiro during Breedingtober. You can also read it as a stand alone.

Warning: This oneshot deals with hinted physical assault on reader and Eijiro's daughter caused by a friend. mention of guns, Yakuza, trauma from an attack. READER DESCRETION IS ADVISED. Also children. That too (they've got like 8 kids)

Eijiro leaned back in the cushioned seat, a chubby little Kirishima baby asleep on his chest as he sat in the nursery with her. It was a Friday night and thus was a takeout night in the Kirishima household. With boxes of pizza now empty and all his beautiful girls spread out around the house or in their rooms, it was peaceful. He looked down at his youngest born currently and probably his last if you had any say in it.

It was to no one’s surprise that Eijiro ended up being the one with the most amount of kids. No surprise at all. He grew up with seven other siblings, all being girls, and his parents were always attentive and loving to all of them which is how Eijiro wanted his family to be. He wanted it to be just as warm and as loving as he had it growing up, and he was so lucky to have found you who was so loving and caring and made him feel as though he was the luckiest guy in the world. He had always been outgoing and loving, an overall great guy who was more of a gentle giant than anything.

However maybe it was the breeding kink that should have made it pretty clear what part of his body he thought with.

Although to be fair, you weren’t exactly declining either. All it took was him sweet talking you and you’d find yourself round with another Kirishima baby a few months later. Never did take him much. At one point it was almost as if you could predict it. Whether it would take six months or three years, but you could already tell when baby fever would take over your husband.

He’d always come nice and slow to you, kissing you and worshiping your body like it was something designed by God himself. He would whisper your praises and make you feel as if you were the only woman in the world. Even with all the added weight of motherhood, you had never seen a man more turned on by the sight of you feeling like an absolute mess. And he was such an insatiable man too. Huge in stature and that wasn’t the only thing huge about him. He never left you not satisfied and he was such a great father to all your girls already.

So you often cursed yourself whenever you’d be sitting for another ultrasound, glaring at your grinning husband who was more than happy to be there.

Now with eight kids later, including one pair of twins, Eijiro couldn’t be happier.

The youngest little girl, Asumi let out a small coo in her sleep as she turned in her sleep. Eijiro carefully stood up and walked over to her crib. He never got tired of this and wanted to save up this feeling while it lasted. He careufully placed her down in her crib, not disturbing her sleep as she lay down supported and safe. He had done this enough times to know all the ins and outs. He carefully let go of her before turned to look at his only little boy who was fast asleep in his toddler bed. Juro was fast asleep, the three year old having knocked out with a cup of milk and half of a bedtime story.

With the two of them sorted out, Eijiro carefully moved out into the hallway. With a big family came a big house, but it was worth everything for his family, and it wasn’t that hard either considering the money that his… businesses brought in.

He walked through the dimlit hallways, looking through the cracks in the door to all the sleeping girls in their rooms. The one’s still awake were unsurprisingly the eldest three, Kaori, Satomi and Reika. No surprise to him at all, but they were old enough that he wasn’t going to get in their hair about bed time, least not the last two. So seeing as it was time to clock out to bed, he walked back to the master bedroom.

You sat on the large California King sized bed, reading a book as you got some time to yourself with Eijiro handling bedtime. You looked up to him, a graceful smile on your face. Two decades of marriage and he still never got tired of that beautiful smile. “Hey there, Eiji.” You spoke sweetly. “Are they all in bed?” You asked.

He nodded his head as rolled his shoulders. “Yah, all the ones who need to be, that is.” He commented as he moved over to where you were, getting onto bed himself.

You felt him grab at your hips, pulling you against him. You couldn’t help but giggle as you made yourself comfortable between his legs, leaning back against him with a smile. A low hum came from his chest as he felt up your sides. He kissed down against your neck, but he didn’t stop there. Soft nips came to your neck, his sharp teeth grazing your skin. You closed your book, knowing that the moment he had his hands on you, you wouldn’t be reading anytime soon. You ran one hand through his soft black hair. “Eijiro, I’m busy.” You whined.

“I’m busy too.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his definition of busy. Eijiro had stopped dyeing his hair over a decade ago. It was a decision he decided to make. As much as he loved the red, he knew that having little girls that would have his natural black hair colour, would mean that he would have to show them to love themselves in their entirety and he couldn’t show that to the little ones if he didn’t appreciate his own hair too. It was something he decided but you didn’t mind. You loved Eijiro in all forms.

You felt a lick go over the new bruise that would form on your neck, making a shiver run down your spine. You let out a soft sigh as you leaned back against him. You knew this was a losing game. Anything to do with your husband and his body against yours felt like a game you would always lose.

Luckily, a knock came to your door like your saving. Eijiro let out a low grumble only for you to hear which made you giggle. You exited out of his arms, moving to place the book down next to him before moving to sit next to him. He raised his head as he leaned back against the headboard, still holding you with one arm. “Enter.” He called out, allowing whichever child was at the door to come in. “I swear, I never get time with my honey.” He grumbled with a frown which only made you giggle at how spoilt he was.

Slowly entering your room, was your sixteen year old daughter, Satomi. You had barely saw her all day and she had been acting rather weird, but you didn’t want to pressure her, knowing she would come talk to the both of you when she needed to. She had gone out with some friends today but only came back later in the evening but went straight to her room. She peaked into your room, slowly closing the door behind her.

Eijiro brightened up at his little girl. He had always been close to his girls but Satomi was his little princess. She was such a daddy’s girl and had been spoiled beyond belief but she was also your best helper too. “Princess. How are you? I’ve barely seen you today.”

Unusually, she had her dyed red hair covering half of her face today. She shuffled into the room, holding onto her arm as she approached the both of you slowly. She kept her eyes down casted as she seemed on the verge of tears. Her ruby eyes glistening with tears. Instantly your maternal senses started ringing in your head as you sat up. You looked to Eijiro who seemed just as worried. “C-can I…” She started softly. “Can I talk to you guys?”

You nodded your head, motioning for her to come and sit down with the both of you. “Of course, sweetheart. What’s going on?” You asked her gently.

She sat down on your bed in front of the both of you. She kept her eyes down casted. Her eyebrows knitted together as she took a moment to piece everything together in her head. She let out a shaky breath but kept her ruby eyes away from the both of you. “When… when I went out with my friends…” She started to tell you both whatever was bothering her. “We went to the mall and everything was great. We saw the movie and got to eat lunch too which was nice. But-” She closed her eyes, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to tell whatever happened today that had her so shaken.

You glanced at Eijiro who glanced back at you. The both of you had a sinking feeling inside you that you both didn’t like whatsoever. It was a horrible feeling inside you, one of sinking dread as you didn’t know what to do almost.

She opened her eyes again, a tear slipping past her eyes. “Koji, a guy I thought he was my friend, he… well… I had just gone to the bathroom and it wasn’t even that far. I was being safe I promise but then h-he… he followed me… and…” Her voice broke as she looked up at the both of you finally. She shook her head as tears started to stream from her eyes, her face puffy. “I promise I didn’t want him to do it! I didn’t try anything! I made sure I dressed appropriately and I wasn’t hitting on him. I promise I didn’t do anything, you’ve got to believe me.”

“Sweetheart.” You quickly moved closer to her, being careful not to scare her as you gently placed a hand on her shoulder. You looked at her in her eyes, trying to calm her down. “We believe you, but you have to tell us what happened.” You whispered.

She swallowed down a sob as she nodded her head. Finally she moved to pull back her hair away from the left side of her face. You gasped as your husband’s eyes widened in shock. Sitting on her beautiful face, near her eye was a dark bruise. “I-I tried to get away, but he’d cornered me. I tried fighting I really did, and if it wasn’t for one of the waitresses hearing me, I wouldn’t have gotten away from him in time before he-” She swallowed down harshly. “But it didn’t stop him from…” She bit back any more words, incapable of speaking as she pulled down part of her nightgown to show more bruises. You were frozen still disgust and pain your throat at the mere fact that someone would do this to your daughter. That someone would that she called a friend would have betrayed her like this. Suddenly you were pulled out of your head as she moved to cover her mouth, biting back sobs as she was shaking. “I p-promise I tried! I really tried!”

“Princess, may I touch you?” Eijiro asked you, far more collected than you expected him to be. He looked to her genuinely, wanting just to comfort her.

She nodded her head. Eijiro moved forward and swiftly held her in his big arms, dwarfing her in size. He hugged her tightly, holding her like she would disappear. Finally being in her father’s arms, Satomi broke down. You moved over to hold her to, threading your hands through her hair.

Your daughter sobbed in the both of your arms. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, Daddy! I promise I-”

“No, princess. You did nothing wrong. You really did nothing wrong.” He assured her as he held her in his arms. “You did all that you could. I’m so very proud of you. You’re so brave. Thank you for telling us.”

“You’re safe now, okay?” You whisper to her. “You’re alright. You’ll be okay.”

The two of you held her in your arms until the poor thing had fallen asleep in your arms. She was exhausted and the both of you had stayed with her until you were both sure that she was asleep. Eijiro had gotten up and placed her in bed, allowing her to sleep in her own bed for just a moment. He had given her a kiss on her forehead, before leaving back to your room.

The two of you were silent as you stood amongst yourselves. The atmosphere in you room was heavy as you digested what had just happened. You were quiet as you turned to look at him. You looked over to your husband with a frown on his face.

Eijiro was frozen in place, all emotion ridden from his face as he paused. His fists were balled tightly, almost ready to smash in someone’s skull. He glanced at you, a dark look in his eyes that told you all you had to know. You moved to grab his phone from off the bedside table and handed it to him. You quickly moved to change as your husband made a phone call to one of his gang members. It didn’t even take five minutes before the both of you were walking out of your bedroom.

Eijiro stopped at your eldest daughter’s room. He knocked on Reika’s door, peaking in. Reika sat on her bed with her earphones in. She looked to the both of you, her black hair tied in a bun. She paused at the sight of the both of you and the attire you both adorned. She looked down to the gun holster that was strapped to your thigh. She moved to get up, seeing the clear worry on both of your faces as a sign. Reika knew everything about the business and the Yakuza, being your husband’s heiress to the gang.

“We’re sorting out some business to do with your sister. We’re coming back, watch over them.” He told her seriously.

Reika hesitated as she looked between the both of you. “What type of business?”

Eijiro motioned for you to go and get the car out, which you did without question. He looked back at Reika. “Cleaning up trash.” He stated simply, letting go of her doorhandle. “Call Aunty Mina if anything happens.”

Eijiro left to go downstairs, meeting you in the front of the house as you drove the car forward. Eijiro and you swapped places as he got behind the wheel and you sat in the passenger’s seat. You were both silent in the car. You were checking your handgun, looking it over like it was second nature.

“Honey…”

“Yes?” You turned to look to Eijiro.

Your husband was speeding but considering the time of night, it wasn’t a bother. His hands gripped the steering wheel with a deathly grip, his pupils thin as he seemed only trained on one thing and one thing only. Pure violence and carnage behind his eyes. Something you hadn’t seen in a long time since you had started your family together. “I want to be the one to do it.” He let out darkly his fingers flexing over the wheel. His voice was low with murderous intent. “With my own two hands.”

You watched your husband silently but nodded your head. “Of course.”

He nodded his head as his phone vibrated, with a notification. Everything was shrouded in darkness in the car as you picked up his phone and opened it to see a message from Tetsu. “They’ve got a location. He’s asking if you want men there?”

“Tell him we’ll call for clean up, but I want us to do it ourselves.” He stated simply as he stopped thee car at a redlight. His face was shrouded in a deep crimson red, his eyes almost seeming black with not an ounce of humanity left in them. “No one touches one of my girls.”

-Glitch1d

[Angry Dilf Katsuki]

[Angry Dilf Izuku]

Thats it for all my dilfs that i adore so much. Thank you for supporting this mini series! Also I see you Tumblr, flagging down my Dilf Bakugou post. SMH.

#mha x y/n #kirishima x reader #bnha #eijiro kirishima #dad kirishima #dilf kirishima #yakuza kirishima eijiro #yakuza kirishima #kirishima eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijiro x reader #tw physical violence #tw trauma #tw assault

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humanpurposes · 2 months

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You Want This, You Need This

The only daughter of Rhaneyra Targaryen is firmly devoted to her mother's cause, and yet she finds her way through the passages of the Holdfast, to the bedchamber of a Prince she should hate // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x nameless female character (daughter of Rhaenyra)

Warnings: 18+, smut, enemies with benefits, hate sex, degrading, angst, Targcest (uncle and niece)

Words: 3.7k

A/n: Me making a poll then doing whatever I want 🫶

There’s no use in waiting for sleep to come to her, she’s too restless for sleep.

Her bedroom is full of alcoves and adjacent chambers, good for hiding and keeping the room cool during the summers. In one of the alcoves is a mural. If she presses a particular space on the wall with much force, she can push it to reveal an entrance into the hidden passageways of Maegor’s Holdfast.

Light is lost beyond the threshold. A gentle but piercing breeze washes over her, through the thin and billowing fabric of her night shift. There’s always this lingering excitement when she opens the doorway. She equates it to the thrill of flying, cutting through the wind on dragonback. Only she’s not in the sky, she’s staring into darkness, daring herself to take a single step.

As children she and her brothers had found many of these hidden doors throughout the castle, the perfect sort of places to hide in when they were in trouble, the perfect place to eavesdrop and move through the keep undetected. When their mother found out she had discouraged them from venturing too far, lest they end up like the piles of bones left by rats and other rodents that had never found their way out.

The paths within the walls are treacherous, but she knows some of the routes by heart. She knows how to head down to the kitchens, she even knows a way which leads past the dungeons, to a chamber which houses the skull of Blaerion, the Black Dread, out to a beach along the shore of the bay, out of reach by any other means.

There is one particular room she has in mind tonight.

She treads carefully, tracing her fingertips against the wall so that she does not lose her way. When she comes to a series of steps she takes even more caution. She counts twenty steps, then turns another corner and keeps walking until the stone underneath her fingers turns to wood. It is a door, one which appears as part of a panelled wall on the other side. She pushes it open, hoping he has left the latch undone, and he has.

The room’s warmth is a welcome sensation. She makes as little noise as possible as she enters and closes the door behind her.

He’s sitting by the fire, turned away from where she stands, head lowered slightly and his silver hair spilling down the back of his chair. She almost always finds him like this, practising one of his self righteous rituals. He reads until the hearth and the candles have burned out because it enforces his own belief that he is a more dedicated son than Aegon, more intelligent and more worthy than the Velaryons– than her and her ilk.

His shoulders stiffen as the soles of her slippers tap delicately against the floor, moving towards his bed. She imagines him frowning, or perhaps smiling to himself as he closes the book in his lap.

She perches at the edge of the mattress, pushing her shoes off and letting them fall to the floor. “That was quite the display in the training yard this morning,” she says in a clear voice.

Everything he does is agonisingly slow. He grips the arms of his chair as he rises, slots the book back onto a shelf, and finally turns to face her. He is dressed in a simple black shirt and the breeches he usually sleeps in. His hair is half tied, his leather patch secured around his head, over the space where his left eye should be, sliced out by her own brother’s hand.

The low light of the hearth casts shadows in the sharp edges of his face, the lines around his mouth, the curve of his lips, proud but restrained. His remaining eye is trained on her, glaring at her like a hunter approaches prey.

“You were there to watch your brother, I thought,” he says in that softly threatening voice of his. He comes close enough to loom over her, though just far enough that their legs do not touch. “Or did you find your eye wandering?”

Jace’s first mistake had been to go down to the yard early. Aemond was always there in the mornings after flying Vhagar, to train with Ser Criston Cole until noon. His next mistake had been to succumb to Aemond’s goading. Their uncle is never one to use violence at first, not like Aegon who would brawl with a gull if he thought it offensive enough. Aemond likes to use his words to tease and probe, to lure an opponent to action, and Jace almost always falls for it. The moment her brother had challenged Aemond to a sparring match she knew what the outcome would be. Jace was a promising fighter, but he simply could not match Aemond’s height, strength, speed or skill.

Her heart sank for her brother, but it couldn’t force her attention away from Aemond. He moved like a dancer, all fluidity and control, like he already had the entire performance planned out in his head. He toyed with Jace, kept his defence up, only to knock his sword from his hands and place his own blade at his throat in a sudden flash of silver and steel.

She’d had to bite the inside of her lip to stop herself from smirking.

“You humiliated him, before spectators,” she says.

Aemond frowns in mock sympathy, taking her chin between his finger and his thumb to tilt her gaze up. “I would do it a hundred times over, for my own pleasure if not for anything else.”

She tilts her head. “And what of my pleasure?”

He hums cryptically. The corners of his mouth flicker upwards. “Your pleasure is only my concern within the confines of this room.”

He’s looking at her like that again, like he wants to devour her.

He traces his fingers down her throat, her collar, the neckline of her shift. His touch is sparse but familiar, exploring the curves of her body through the fabric, patterns she’s felt before, spaces he already knows and seems to have mapped in his head.

He leans in closer, his other hand pressing into the bed, invading her space, infiltrating her senses with the scent of smoke and lavender. She could drown in it, the scent of him.

She shudders as he runs his nose over her neck, following the heat of his breath with a lingering kiss against the sensitive spot of her skin. “What is it you want from me tonight?”

She has an idea in her mind, one she’s been toying with since she had seen the look of pride in his face in the yard.

“Lie down, on your back.”

He stands straight. Eye still fixed on her, he does as she says, making himself comfortable against the pillows.

She draws out every movement, just as he likes to do to her. She straddles him, settling her hips against the growing hardness in his breeches. She rests her hands against his chest, runs her fingers over his skin and the patch of silver hair revealed when she pulls on his shirt.

His hands are on her immediately, running up her thighs, gripping at her waist, bringing up the hem of her shift and tutting as though it has caused him some personal insult in hiding her body from him. He pulls it over her head and surges up to kiss her, capturing her lips with the desperation of a man starved. His kisses are always like this, slow and consuming, pulling her in closer and closer like he expects her to try to escape, like the only air he wants exists in her lungs.

It’s fast and overwhelming, and at first she’s content to just let it happen, to let herself be carried away in the currents of his wants and not her own, but once she’s a little more settled, she pushes him back against the bed.

He stares up at her, blood rushing to his cheeks, lips parted and panting. For all the times she’s seen his stoic exterior at court, she thinks he looks best like this.

“I thought you were concerning yourself with my pleasure?” she says, not bothering to contain her smile.

“I thought you liked it when I take what I want,” he retorts.

“I want you to do as you’re told.”

He huffs a laugh, but his gaze softens and his tongue wets his lips, his eye roaming appreciatively over her bare body, until he stops at her small clothes. All it takes is a few gentle rocks of her hips before his jaw tightens and his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of her waist. She swears she feels his hips twitch beneath her, but he makes no move to take what he wants.

She leans back on her haunches as she drags his breeches below his hips. By the sight of him, hard and reddened at the tip, she knows he at least finds something about this arrangement appealing.

She discards the rest of their clothing, his shirt, her small clothes, the leather eyepatch on his head. She pauses when she reaches for it, waiting for him to protest, but he doesn’t. He gives her a small nod and she slides it up to reveal the true extent of his scar, the twisted red flesh around the sapphire wedged in his socket.

She has seen it countless times before. She needs the reminder of who he is, how much he must hate her.

Now that they are both bare she resumes her position, pleasure like a flame licking up her spine as she traces circles over her centre. Aemond grinds himself against her, breathing with a strain in the back of his throat. The sound only makes the wanting feeling in her gut tighten. She can feel herself clenching over nothing, her body begging for more friction and the release it promises.

She feels she is wet enough to take him now, and her stomach drops in anticipation.

When he whispers her name, she knows she has him exactly where she wants him.

She closes her hand around his cock, giving it a few half-hearted strokes and lining it up to her entrance, only to hesitate. “I hear your mother is intending to invite Borros Baratheon to court,” she says.

Aemond catches his lip between his teeth, staring at the space where their bodies almost meet if she would only lower her hips.

“Might he bring one of his comely daughters? He has four, doesn’t he?”

Aemond huffs and meets her eye. His hands are still on her waist, his thumbs tracing circles over her belly. “Where did you hear this?”

She tries to pretend such a simple touch from him does not excite her or tempt her to relent.

Daemon has spies in the Queen’s household, not that she knows the specifics. Her mother had discussed the matter with her, expressing concern for the Hightowers’ intentions. It has been decades since a Lord of Storm’s End has stepped foot in the Red Keep, and Daemon believes their rivals are trying to close ranks, amass allies outside of the capital. Perhaps such a deal may be sealed with a marriage pact.

“What,” she breathes, trying to smile, “that his daughters are comely? I can only assume, for I’ve never met them you see–”

In the blink of an eye she’s beneath him.

Aemond brings a single finger to her lips. “I thought we had agreed not to discuss political matters in private,” he says.

“I did not realise the matter was political–”

He cuts her off when he snakes his hand down her body and pushes his thumb against her pearl. She hisses, her hips bucking to meet his touch.

“Are you trying to bait me, niece? Hmm? Is that what you came here for?”

She shakes her head as he circles over her. For such minimal effort on his part, it sparks something frustratingly bright in her, back arching, warmth settling between her legs and beneath her skin.

“Is that really what you want me to be thinking about? Wondering which one of the Baratheon girls is the prettiest?”

His fingertips tease over her entrance, but he doesn’t push them inside, instead they’re replaced by the head of his cock. She presses her lips together, determined not to make any kind of noise he could take for weakness, for wanting, but she feels it all the same.

“Presently, I’m only thinking about what I can see, and what I see is a spoiled little Princess, laid out beneath me. Poor thing, she’s trying to look smug, but I’m not sure I’m convinced, not when I’m about to fuck her tight, little cunt.”

Her pleading is mindless, falling from her lips as effortlessly as her breath. “Please… please… please…”

She wonders if it is her want or his own he eventually succumbs to. He pushes in slowly, delighted at the slight moan he elicits from her, sharing her air as she gasps at the pleasurable ache of being stretched out around him.

“I’ve heard rumours too, that Rhaenyra has been sending ravens to Highgarden,” he says as he starts to snap his hips against hers. “What business would your mother have with the Tyrells, I wonder?”

Rhaenyra has her own plans for a marriage pact, plans she’s known about for months. “What indeed?” she says, trying to smile as he ruts into her.

Aemond almost growls, burying his face into her neck. As his voice is harsher so are his thrusts. “My sister will sell you to a sickly little boy, is that it? Why would Rhaenyra want an alliance with the Reach?”

Because the King is little more than a breathing corpse and who knows how much life he has left in him. Because eventually, he will die, and they both know what will come next.

She’s always known her part in this, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her brothers may well fight in battles to defend their mother’s claim, but wars cannot be won without the necessary support. The Reach, The Riverlands, The Vale, The North, they must all be secured one way or another.

With his face hidden from hers she allows herself to admire the way his muscles move and flex under the smooth, pale skin of his arm. Since leaving childhood behind, he seems to have this idea of efficiency, with no tolerance for excess. His arms are slight, but defined where he trains with his sword each day, where he hauls himself onto Vhagar’s saddle and steers her around Blackwater Bay.

“It’s always been expected of me,” she says, tracing her hand over his skin, almost perfect, save for a few marks: a burn after an unfortunate encounter with Vermax when he was just a hatchling, a scar above his elbow where he fell from an apple tree, and crescent shaped indents from their last tryst. “I will do my duty.”

“Duty?” He stops, grabbing her by the neck so her breath hitches in her throat. He leans into her, pressing his forehead against hers, caging her between his body and the bed. She sees nothing but a single eye and a sapphire, nothing but contempt. “You’re the antithesis of it, crawling to your uncle’s bedchamber every night, begging to be fucked.”

Anger flares in her blood. She clamps her hand around his wrist and digs her nails into his skin, hoping it will mark him. “I have never begged for you,” she spits, teeth bared, lips grazing over his, “and I never shall…”

Her words fade on her tongue when he resumes a punishing pace, urging her closer to oblivion with every thrust.

“Oh there you go,” he coos, “that feels good, doesn’t it?” He’s on his knees now, one hand still on her throat, the other on her thigh, forcing her legs further apart, fingertips pressing painfully into her flesh.

She tries to pull away from his grip, pushing herself further into the bed amongst the pillows, but Aemond has always been stubborn and does not relent. She has nowhere to go, no other option but to take it.

“You’ll be sent off to some castle in a miserable corner of the world, live the dull life of a Lady. Your Lord husband will trade swords and shields for you like a brood mare and fuck his children into your belly each night.”

She feels her peak building within her, the weightlessness rising and rising, she can hardly take much more. “Do you believe I will think of you?” she says with a grin, “as he touches me, as he spills inside me…”

Aemond grunts, folding his chest over hers, brushing his lips over her cheek as he hisses, “wanton little whore. I am the one you seek out, and as long as you do, you are mine.”

It tears through her quickly, a spark that turns to flame, a piece of kindling caught alight, pleasure that reduces her simply to feeling, warmth and the absence of his weight on her body. She claws her nails into nothing, empty space where she expects to find his skin.

Aemond has pulled away from her, groaning as he comes, spilling over her stomach and thighs. She watches him, jaw slack, brows angled like he’s in agony.

She basks in the numbness her peak leaves behind as he drags his shirt over her skin to clean the mess he’s made with a touch that is soft and slow. His eye trails along her body to her face. She sees nothing in him, not amusement or satisfaction, not hatred or remorse, and yet he comes to lay beside her, turning her onto her side, settling against her back and putting his arms around her.

She allows it, too used to the feeling of lying in his bed, too used to the scent of sweat and smoke and lavender.

Aemond’s chambers are ruled by order, every book has its place on a shelf, he does not leave papers, clothes or used cups of wine lying around. The bedchamber lies on the south side of the castle, with a balcony overlooking the bay where two of them used to watch the ships leaving the harbour. She likes the intricate tapestries, scenes of Valryian mythology, and his fondness for the colour blue. Even if she cannot see most of it in the dark of night, the silence and stillness is comforting.

“Lord Corlys’ ship was attacked,” she mutters, placing her hand over his, where his palm against her stomach. “We cannot be sure if he even survived.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aemond says, “I’ve also heard Vaemond Velaryon intends to challenge the succession of Driftmark, should the unthinkable be true.

“And I assume the Queen and the Hand will support him in this endeavour.”

Aemond’s chest stills. “They will hear the petitions and pass their judgement,” he says, quietly but finally.

“Then the decision has already been made.”

Aemond’s breathing is deep, her hair fluttering against her cheek as he exhales. Her mother has a similar way of scolding her without uttering a single word, as if to say the answer should be obvious.

With a scoff she pushes his hand away and drags herself out of the bed. The cold air stings her skin and she makes short work of finding her night shift, discarded on the floor, and dressing herself.

“Lucerys has no claim to Driftmark,” Aemond says from the bed.

“And why is that?” she says shortly, grabbing her shoes from the foot of the bed.

He won’t say it, but the word is there, in the way he teases Jace, the way his family watch her and her brothers and stare at them across the throne room with nothing but disgust. It’s there in his indifference towards her beyond the walls of his bedchamber, avoiding eye contact, muttering under his breath, insults and backhanded compliments. But the last time he said it, it cost him his eye.

She turns to face him, a defiant glare through the darkness now that some of the candles have started to burn out.

“Coward,” she whispers.

He does claim to disagree.

With her shoes on, she moves towards the hidden door without sparing him another glance.

But she hears a ruffle of fabric, his feet against the floor as he follows her. His hand closes around her arm, hard enough it feels as though it might leave a bruise. He turns her into him, placing her back and his palm against the panelled wall.

“Stay,” he says.

“Surely you would not want to sully yourself, sharing your bed with a bastard.”

“But it’s different with you.”

“How? How is it different?”

He cups her face in his hands, begging her for something but never saying it. He leans in gradually, kissing her firmly. It’s easy to follow his lead, to let him slip his tongue between her lips, let him pull and tug at her delicate flesh, to feel him and lose herself to him. It makes her weightless all over again.

Once it was easy to love Aemond. They found friendship easily as children, even when they bickered and argued, because they could always forgive each other.

Some time ago she realised that love has always been destined to fade away, like summer changing into autumn, winter snows melting away with the spring. There is no place for it amongst the animosity between their families, causes they were born to, that neither of them will ever forsake.

Aemond pulls away but stays close to her, a hand on her waist, the other on her cheek. “I want you to stay.”

“And what then? What do you think could ever become of us?” The one-eyed Prince and the bastard Princess.

Suddenly she hates the stillness of this room, the weight of his silence in her chest.

Aemond’s hand slips from her cheek, his expression falling from pleading to indifference.

She leaves him standing there, bare chested and breathless, with no light to catch in the cut edges of his sapphire. She fades back into the shadows of the passageway, amongst the cold and the dark and the bones.

The rot has set in. The King will die, and both the Blacks and the Greens will seek to claim his throne. The empty space between her and Aemond can only ever grow.

Tags (comment to be added)

General taglist: @jamespotterismydaddy @theoneeyedprince @tsujifreya

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rogueddie · 7 months

Text

There are a lot of rumors about Eddie Munson. From his sexuality, to his religion, to him being some sort of supernatural creature.

Steve doesn’t put a lot of merit in most of them. They’re usually just bullshit people make up to entertain themselves with whilst beating down on the weird kid. Steve thinks it’s boring… usually.

He’s seen enough weird things happen around Munson to know that something isn’t right. Something about him is unnatural. And Steve is staying clear out of the way of whatever the hell he is, or whatever the hell he’s messing with.

Unfortunately, his friends haven’t gotten the message.

“Do it at your own house!” Steve complains, though he makes no move to stop them. He’s sure it’s nothing, that it’ll only lead to an annoying clean-up job, but there’s a nagging sense of dread writhing in his gut. “This shit is bull anyway.”

“If it’s bull then what’s the problem?” Tommy counters.

“Because none of you dickheads are going to help clean this shit up!”

“I promise to help you clean up,” Carol says. “There. Problem solved. Right?”

"It's still stupid," Steve mutters, glaring at the janky make-shift pentagram they've made. "And a bad idea."

It's drawn on nine pieces of paper- they wanted to draw it big on the floor, but Steve had but his foot down. He lets them use some of his moms candles as a compromise.

With the lights off, sitting with the two of them in a circle, it suddenly feels too real. Even Carol looks suddenly nervous.

Tommy is the only one still smirking, though Steve is sure that it's forced. His voice shakes a little as he begins reading off the paper he'd torn out a library book. His Latin is clunky.

At first, nothing happens.

Long enough that Carol says, "did you even say it right?"

"Yes, it even has-" Tommy starts.

The candles all blow out, suddenly. The light Steve had left on in the kitchen flicks off too, plunging them into complete darkness.

After a horrible moment, where they're still and silent, Carol yelps.

"Don't grab me, Tommy, that's not funny!"

"I didn't grab you."

"Wh- Steve?"

"No," is all Steve can get out.

"I'm turning the lights on," Tommy says. "This is ridiculous."

Steve listens to his footsteps and, when he sounds like he's almost at the light switch, he yelps.

"Fuck this," he says.

"What the fuck, Tommy!" Carol yells when they both hear him running past them. She's up on her feet immediately, chasing after him.

He wants to scream after them, plead with them to come back, that they shouldn't be abandoning the circle.

But, the same gut instinct that insists he stay where he is, keeps his mouth shut. Everything in his being is telling him that if he leaves, if he speaks first, horrible things will happen to him.

Something tuts, like a parent admonishing a child.

The living room light flicks on, so bright that Steve has to blink a few times to clear away the white spots.

Eddie Munson sits in the space they left empty.

"Someone didn't read the terms and conditions," he snickers.

"What..." Steve pauses, clearing his throat. "What are the, uh... terms and conditions?"

"Oh, they're simple, really. Look," he holds up the page Tommy had read the incantations from, pointing to the little paragraph at the end. "They even translated it to English! But all you need to know, big boy, is that you are A-OK."

"And... Tommy and Carol?"

"Eh, they're fine. Lucky, really. I'm trying to relax up here. I'm only gonna pay them back with a minor curse or two. Nothing lethal."

"Fuck."

"We haven't even got to you yet!" He spins around so hes laying on his belly, resting his chin on his palm. "You didn't technically summon me so you can just tell me to leave... or."

"Or?"

"Deal with no consequence, baby. One wish, whatever you want, free of charge. Well... I'd want your silence about the whole... summoning thing. Let's consider that payment."

He doesn't need his gut or book to warn him that it's a bad idea. Munson could be lying, easily. There could be fine print. It's a bad, very bad idea.

"There's... definitely no consequences? I won't, like, go to hell for this?" Steve finally asks.

"Do some charity work for a week, you'll be fine," he says, waving his hand around. "What do you want, King Steve?"

"Could- could you make someone love me?"

"Oh, ho ho ho! Who's the unlucky lady who said no to you?"

"No, it... it's not like that. I mean, um... my mom."

Munsons smile drops. The temperature drops with it, making a chill run up Steves spine.

"Your mom," he repeats.

"They're busy like, all the time," Steve automatically defends. "And they're barely here so, uh... of course they wouldn't- I mean, it's normal, right? You can't love a stranger or... whatever. It's fine. It's just... I don't know."

"Steve..." Munson pauses.

He groans, throwing his head into his hands, dramatically. He almost immediately flings his head back up, hair flying everywhere, giving Steve wide and pleading eyes.

"I can't make people fall in love or any shit like that. I can make illusions, that's it. Love is, like... way out of my jurisdiction."

"I- I'm ok with an illusion. Like, just one day or something."

"Steve, baby, you're breaking my heart."

"Please?"

"Jesus- ok!" Grumbling, Munson shifts so he's kneeling. "And in return, you won't say shit about any of this. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great. Ugh. This next part is... weird."

"What do you mean, weird?"

"It's weird, I don't know. Deals about, like, love are sealed with a kiss."

"You're joking."

"Nope, and that's not even the weird part. Now, come on and pucker up, let's get this over with." He gestures for Steve to shuffle closer, waiting until they're sat close enough that their knees almost bump together. "You can still change your mind. Anything at all, Steve. Anything."

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?"

"On your head..."

Munson leans forward, kissing him. It's just a peck, simple and easy. No big deal, right?

Steve feels possessed. It's like someone lit a match in his stomach, leaving him lightheaded and confused. He's not sure how he ends up in Eddie's lap, clutching onto his shoulders, desperately trying to lick into his mouth. He feels so-

He wakes up in his bed, the morning light blinding him.

"What the fuck..." he mutters to himself, grabbing at his throbbing head.

At first, he thinks he's hungover. That he'd just had a weird dream... but he's wearing the same clothes. And, sat on his stomach, is a guitar pic. It's got 'corroded coffin' written on it too- Eddie's band.

"Steve!" He hears his mom call. "Time to get up!"

He scrambles out of bed, dashing down the stairs.

She smiles when she spots him, so bright and warm. She even raises an arm, laughing when he practically throws himself into her side and hugging her tight.

"Morning, sweetheart. Good dreams?"

"Yeah. Yeah, great. But, uh... I feel sick."

"Oh no," she frowns. She puts her hand to his forehead, cooing when she brushes his hair out his face. "Is it your stomach?"

"Yeah. Just... might be better to stay home today. If that's ok?"

"Of course it is. I'm sure we can find something fun to do together, yeah? How about we get a vhs movie, hm?"

"I'd love that."

"Great. Well, if you're feeling up to it, I've made breakfast." She steps away, plating the food she's cooked up. "Oh, did I ever tell you about Paris? It was beautiful, you would have loved it. We should bring you, next time we go."

Steve can't stop smiling. He's sure that his cheeks will be aching by the end of the day.

He'll have to thank Eddie- as soon as he can even think about him without blushing. He'll need to ask if it's normal to still feel... affected, even after the deal is done.

Part of him knows it isn't the deal. Part of him is too curious about how Eddie will react.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #creaturefeature

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draconic-desire · 2 months

Text

A Dance With the Dragon II — Mates

Yandere Neuvillette x Reader

[Part I] [Part II — You are here] [Part III]

Neuvillette brings you to your new “home”, which also comes with new challenges.

Warnings: Emotional manipulation, forced imprisonment, Neuvillette accidentally goes a little feral here, brief non-con at the end

One of the first things Neuvillette did was move you from the apartment at the Palais Mermonia (your prison for the past four centuries) to his personal residence. Securing his palms to your waist, he teleported you directly into the foyer of the massive home.

The interior was splashed with blues and whites that matched the Chief Justice’s own color palette. The upper walls were decorated with friezes depicting various marine creatures, from floating otters (how ironic) to bobbing seahorses. A grand spiral staircase led to the upper floor, while a set of double French doors connected the foyer to a massive living room adorned with plush love seats and armchairs, tasteful artwork of Fontainian landscapes, and enormous windows that overlooked the sea. It appeared the house was set into a cliffside, with the waves battering the rocks far beneath you.

You paced into the living room, running your hand along the blue silk couch cushions. To your left, a door led out to what appeared to be an inclosed courtyard with a miniature fountain. To the right was a closed door, a familiar dragon carved into its exterior. Your arm burned in resonance.

Though you were loathe to admit it, the place was beautiful.

“Do you like it?”

Shifting your gaze to him, it was clear that Neuvillette was desperate for your approval. Ever since he let you outside to discover the true length of your imprisonment, you had rarely spoken a word to him. Clearly, your silence had done a number on him, as the normally composed man was fidgeting nervously.

When you kept quiet, Neuvillette cleared his throat. “I admit, part of why things took so long was due to my insistence that everything be perfect for your arrival. I rearranged our bedroom perhaps a dozen times, and I couldn’t for the life of me decide what your personal room should entail.” When you glanced out towards the fountain, he coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ah, that was a…sentimental addition. It makes me think of how we met.”

You’d never forget that Archons-damned fountain. If only you hadn’t been so naive. Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, go away.

Neuvillette extended his palm towards you in what appeared to be both a peace offering and an order. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Suddenly your feet appeared very interesting. What were you supposed to say? This technically was your home now, like it or not. You’d become painstakingly familiar with it with time. Although you weren’t imprisoned within the Palais as before, your new life still promised shackles nonetheless.

“Could you just show me my personal room?” You sighed. “I’d prefer to just rest after that.”

Neuvillette smiled softly, relishing the sound of your voice. “Of course.”

Twisting his fingers through your own, he led you towards the dragon door. Once again, your hidden tattoo pulsed with energy. It felt like a pull forward, a welcoming embrace. You realized then that there must be some sort of warding spell on this room, likely meaning only you and your captor could enter.

Marvelous.

Pushing the door open, Neuvillette swept his arm gracefully through the entrance. “After you, my love.”

You stepped in and immediately went still.

For in every direction around you was rows upon shelves upon stories of books.

Neuvillette had build you your own personal library.

And not just that. You noticed that entire sections pertained to your personal interests—marine biology, photography, even your personal favorite genres of novels. A separate door labeled Dark Room promised an avenue for you to pick up photography again. Similar couches and chairs as the living room were arranged around a huge coffee table, and a cracking hearth added to the cozy atmosphere.

Your throat bobbed. You had always dreamed of owning a room like this, a place where all your passions converged. But to have it under these circumstances…you didn’t know how to react, torn between frustration and a grateful little voice in the back of your head that you buried at once. No, I didn’t earn this. I don’t want this. It was forced on me.

All you could choke out was, “This is…mine?”

“Down to the last book.” You could hear the pride in his voice. “I spent the most time on this room. Over a century to get it right.”

You startled. A century? Your heart stumbled, but your hands fisted by your sides. So much given, yet what had it cost you?

Shaking your head, you simply said, “I’d like to be alone.” Connecting your eyes with his, you could see his hurt, the expectation of a grand reaction on your part that you refused to indulge.

However, the look was quickly wiped from his face, for he must have seen something broken in your facade. A muscle in his jaw feathered as he approached you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek. “I understand you must be overwhelmed. I’ll leave you to explore,” Neuvillette said, placing a kiss on your forehead before heading for the exit.

“Neuvillette?”

Said man turned back towards you, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Why me?” You grabbed your arm where the shadow of your draconic tattoo hid. “Why…all this?”

His gaze immediately softened. “My dear, we have centuries for me to show you.”

~*~

It was times when Neuvillette was vulnerable that it was hardest to hate him.

He had returned home after a long day at court to find you sitting in the courtyard on the edge of the fountain, peering up at the night sky as if the stars held some answers. Moonlight bathed you in an ethereal glow, and if he didn’t already think you a goddess, he would have pledged himself to you then and there.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, too involved in your own thoughts. True to his word, Neuvillette had given you time and space to enjoy your new (cage) home. You had to admit, it was a major upgrade from the Palais, and you knew the Iudex would continue to let you explore Fontaine, if you tolerated his presence beside you. However, you knew this dance wouldn’t last—it was only a matter of time before Neuvillette expected something in return. It was abundantly clear that he desired your affections, but how far would he go in order to sway you? To fully make you his?

A sea breeze whipped around you, eliciting an involuntary shiver to rip up your spine.

A sudden warmth enveloping your form brought you back to reality. Blinking in surprise, you peered up to see the Chief Justice smiling softly at you, his purple irises sparking with longing and care. His elaborate attire was gone, leaving only his pale undershirt.

He’d given you this coat.

“I…thank you,” you mumbled, averting your eyes from the man.

“Do my ears deceive me? Did my dear (Y/n) actually acknowledge me?”

Your grip on his robes tightened. “Don’t mistake my words for kindness. I haven’t forgotten what you are.”

A sigh. “Despite what you may believe, I’m not a monster.”

You deadpanned. “You’re quite literally the Hydro dragon.”

“Archons above,” Neuvillette whispered, glancing up at the sky as if it held the key to winning your heart. “I was referring to a monster in the definition you humans use.”

“What? You mean like a man who would kidnap and imprison an innocent person—”

“Considering you are not in the Fortress of Meropide, I’d hardly consider this imprisonment.”

“What, have I offended you?” A scoff left escaped you. “If you want to play house, at least own up to your actions. Don’t pretend you’re some sort of gentleman.”

Neuvillette was silent for a beat, his mouth a thin line. Unexpectedly, his muscles relaxed as he released his tension. He lowered his large frame, taking a seat next to you. “You’re right.”

You sketched a brow in surprise.

Neuvillette trained his eyes on his palms, facing upwards in his lap. “I understand neither what it means to be human, nor what it means to be a god. I was given this duty to protect and uphold the laws of Fontaine, and yet I cannot save those who need it most.” His fingers formed fists, and his lids closed solemnly. “Carole, Vautrin…all of the others I have failed…”

You worried your lower lip. Although he had already informed you of his friends’ fate in your absence, it was still a raw wound for the both of you. Yet the anguish in Neuvillette’s eyes twisted your heart. How could a man be so duplicitous, so capable of both justice and blind obsession?

As if sensing your conflict, Neuvillette gently took your face in his hands, tilting your chin so that your eyes locked once again. His eyes danced with silver sparks of emotion, like cracks of lighting across a dark sea. A thumb brushed away a tear you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“So if I can protect but one thing, one person, I will do it.”

~.~

You often noticed that Neuvillette’s horns got stuck in his robes.

Honestly, it was kind of humorous. In the beginning, watching him struggle gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. You’d take any circumstance that inconvenienced him, however petty that might be.

But today, seeing the Chief Justice pouring over a case regarding the protection of Fontaine’s sea life at an ungodly hour, head propped on a fist to keep him awake, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic when he emitted a low hiss as his horns tangled into the ornamentation of his attire once again. “Damned human attire,” he cursed.

Neuvillette wasn’t an inherently bad man. In fact, your own case aside, he had invoked significant and positive change in Fontaine’s legal system. He judged cases fairly and prudently, working himself ragged each day to ensure the nation’s safety. It would have been admirable to you in any other circumstance.

You didn’t know what possessed you when you stepped behind him and carefully untangled his twin blue horns.

At your touch, Neuvillette immediately froze. His heart rate skyrocketed and his mind went blank because you were touching him.

And not just anywhere, but his horns. Unbeknownst to you, a dragon’s horns were the most sensitive part of its body, only to be handled by itself or its mate. One brush was akin to a lovers embrace, the whisper of a kiss, the hot breath shared between partners in the thralls of passion. Not only was the touch intensely intimate, it was also an acknowledgement—an acceptance of the male’s advances onto his partner.

Oh, if only you knew how many times he had fantasized about this, your acknowledgement of him and his love for you. Although his rational, human side knew your touch as unintentional, the dragon within Neuvillette reared and roared against his skin, demanding to be set free upon its mate.

“Your horns were caught,” was all you said as you settled back into the sofa, flipping to the marked page of your novel.

If you had looked up, you would have witnessed the Iudex gently touching his horns in awe. He swore he could still feel the brush of your palm against him, shivering delightfully at the mere memory of your touch.

Little did you know that your simple act of kindness would unleash the storm.

~*~

The one unfortunate deviation of your current accommodations from the Palais Mermonia was Neuvillette’s unyielding insistence on sharing a bed.

You had foolishly thought escaping him, even if just within the confines of your shared home, would be simple. You believed the library, what he even referred to as your room, would be your bedroom as well. Despite the lack of an actual bed, the plush couches and ever-lit fire provided more than enough comfort to lull you to sleep.

But when you had opened your eyes, you were mere inches away from Neuvillette’s shirtless, sleeping form.

You had assumed it was due to the draconic symbol guarding the room; perhaps it linked you to him more than you had thought. So, the next night, you decided to sleep in the parlor instead.

Only for your hopes to be shattered the next morning when you awoke not only in bed with your captor, but with your limbs entwined.

Anger, shame, and a touch of something you couldn’t quite place—something not entirely unpleasant—flooded you as you tore yourself out of his embrace. How was he doing this? Was it magic, or would he physically carry you to bed each night?

This pattern repeated itself. You would pick various places around the huge house to retire for the night. However, you would wake up in bed next to Neuvillette each morning without fail.

You had even reverted to your previous stubbornness and slept on the ground a few nights, but to no avail. It seemed you were bound to his bed.

Tonight, you decided to face the issue head-on. You stormed up the stairway and into the spacious bedroom, ignoring the pain in your lower back due to all the errant surfaces you had tried to sleep on. The downy pillows and lush, cream comforter practically begged you to surrender to the king-sized bed and its occupant.

Instead, you halted at the foot of the bed and crossed your arms. “You have to stop this.”

Neuvillette immediately looked up from the tome in his lap, his reading glasses slipping down his nose. He hadn’t yet changed out of his white dress shirt, and the buttons revealed a hint of his toned chest as he set the book down. “And what exactly are you demanding I stop?”

You huffed a laugh. “I wish I could say all of this,” you waved your hands around, as if that would convey the entirety of the situation, “but I mean putting me in your bed each morning.”

“Our bed,” he corrected, as if that were the issue.

“No, your bed. Are you really telling me that with all this space, you can’t just let me sleep alone?”

He removed his glasses with a sigh, setting them on the nightstand. “I could, but I don’t want to.”

You seethed. “Well, I do.”

Neuvillette’s violet gaze pinned you with something like hurt. “Have I truly done something to upset you? It seemed as if you were settling into our new home quite nicely. Our conversation and touches were…” His throat bobbed. “Pleasant.”

You narrowed your eyes and bit out, “Don’t take any of that as complacency. You’re still a monster.”

Neuvillette flinched in response and, for just a moment, you felt a piece your heart falter. That is, until he whispered, “Mates don’t sleep apart.”

The room went utterly still.

Your voice came out as a breath of air, but the words were clear: “I am not your mate.”

It was then that you noticed the claws emerging from his fingertips, piercing into the sheets under his form. His eyes flashed silver, dangerous as knives. You could have sworn you saw a pair of elongated canines as he grit his teeth. “You have no idea how difficult it has been,” he breathed, voice tight, desperate.

On instinct, you took a pace back. You suddenly felt like a cornered animal, unable to avert your gaze from those claws that looked ready to tear into you. Clearly you had misjudged the situation—the Hydro Dragon was a starved, deadly predator, and you were practically served on a silver platter as its next meal.

Icy panic raced through your veins. You’ve never seen him like this, so out of control and inhuman. Trying to mediate the situation, you put your hands up in surrender. “Neuvillette, listen to me. Just calm down.”

You had hoped that saying his name would do just that, but it seemed to only rile him up further. The Chief Justice of Fontaine actually growled in response. You couldn’t tell if it was a warning or a plea. “You deny your mate, and now you’re telling me to simply calm down?”

Another step back. Just put out the fire and deal with the consequences later. “I apologize for being confrontational. I think it’s best if I just go—”

Before you could react, Neuvillette pounced forward and grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you onto the bed. You released a cry and tried to scramble away, but he spun you around and pinned your back against the mattress with his muscular frame. He loomed above you on all fours, his hands gripping your arms and applying just enough pressure to hold you still without hurting you. The glint in his eyes, however, promised pain that was yet to come. You were the prey about to get its throat torn out.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You struggled, heart skyrocketing at the feel of his arousal pressing against your core.

"Something I’ve needed to do for four hundred years," he growled huskily, his breath fanning your lips moments before they slammed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, predatory. Obsessive. You could feel the release of each year, each century, as his mouth devoured yours. You arched your back in an attempt to get away, but Neuvillette was quicker. He lifted your form easily and slammed your back against the bed once again. At your gasp of shock, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You fumbled around for something, anything that you could take purchase of. Your arms were pinned, but you were just barely able to grab onto the first thing and tug: his horns.

Neuvillette moaned, a deep, throaty sound that sent heat flooding through you.

It was in that moment you realized your mistake. You recalled how some marine animals with horns had millions of nerves within them, making these appendages a source of sensory stimulation. When you had started adjusting his horns after they were getting stuck, it must have been like touching his—

Oh, fuck.

Neuvillette released you arms, grinding against your thigh. “Do that again,” he begged, though it came out as more of a growled order.

“Neuvillette, stop—” An involuntary whine escaped your lips.

Your lewd noises only instigated him. His movements became more erratic as he slid a clawed hand up your leg and to your core, which was protected by only a nightgown. You jerked as his finger pinched your clit, eliciting another whine.

Neuvillette’s eyes sparked with heat, dual purple flames that devoured your form. “That’s it, my dear. Let me take care of you.” He bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out. He was marking you before he took you fully.

“Tonight, you become more than my wife. You become my mate.”

~*~

You laid there limply in Neuvillette’s arms. He peppered you with kisses and whispered words of protecting you and lofty dreams of your future together, but it fell on deaf ears. None of it made you forget about the bites along your neck or your throbbing core.

You couldn’t believe you had let his kindness fool you for even a second.

You had to escape this prison.

#yandere #yandere neuvillette #yandere neuvillette x reader #yandere genshin x you #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #dragon #obsessive love #tw kidnapping #tw noncon touching #neuvillette doesn’t understand the concept of personal space #neuvillette is down bad #mates

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omgthatdress · 1 year

Text

the major takeaway from last night is that Karl Lagerfeld was more of a personality than a designer and that Yves Saint Laurent was the clear winner of that rivalry.

For those who aren’t familiar, Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent were both fashion wunderkinds who emerged in the late 1950s, both appointed heads of major brands at the same time, and had very intense rivalry. Yves Saint Laurent took over Dior after the passing of Christian Dior, helped cement the brand as a major player in fashion, and then after a disastrous stint being drafted into the French army, built his own fashion brand that went down in history with its unique and diverse and always evolving looks.

Karl was always kind of behind Yves. He designed for a lot of major fashion brands, and managed to establish himself at the top of the game at Chloé, but he didn’t get his full on legendary status until he took over Chanel in 1983. This history of the Chanel brand was already pretty frought, with Coco Chanel modernizing and defining the fashion of the 1920s and 30s, but being forced to shut down during World War 2, during which she collaborated with the Nazis. Behind the Bastards did a pretty great two episodes on her. When the brand returned in the 60s, fashion had changed tremendously. Dior, Givenchy, Balenciaga, and Balmain had all taken over mid-century fashion, and now that aesthetic was being taken over by mod, the miniskirt, and the likes of Mary Quant, Pierre Cardin, and Paco Rabanne. So when Chanel came back it was largely seen as a stuffy old lady brand, which it remained until Karl took it over.

Now, this is where Karl actually did something really impressive that you honestly can’t take away from him: he took a fashion house in severe decline, one that had been in its flop era for literal decades, and he made it hip again, while still managing to stay true to the ethos that Coco Chanel had laid out.

Chanel is clean, minimalistic, and classy. It is easy to wear, effortless, and always extremely glamorous, which is what made it so iconic in the 20s and 30s. Given that the 50s and 60s were all about making a fucking effort, the thing that the brand managed to keep doing well was its suits. You know what kind of suits I’m talking about. Tweed jackets and midi skirts, neat tailoring, delicate pastel colors, pearls and camellias and chains. It’s not so much that it was edgy and exciting but it was expensive and it was *Chanel* and people wore it for the status symbol alone. That is what Karl took advantage of and managed to re-invent.

That sort of aesthetic fit perfectly into the you-can-never-be-too-rich-or-too-skinny 80s, when wearing status symbol clothing was everything.

Then, in the 90s, he managed to keep things exciting by following exactly what was on-trend at the time and incorporating elements of street wear and hip-hop.

However, after that, he kind of lost his edge and just rested on “it’s Chanel” rather than actually pushing the fashion envelope. By the time he died in 2019, he was a fucking dinosaur and fashion had long since moved past him. The thing that he was ultimately most well known for was his own very distinctive look and flamboyant personality.

Before I ever started studying fashion, I knew who Karl was because I’d seen him so many times, and I’d seen parodies of him so many times. I knew *him* but I didn’t really know his work. And I think having an incredibly boring Met Gala dedicated to him reveals that: his actual artistic legacy is skinnier than the models he used to berate. Karl Lagerfeld built his brand on his diva personality, and that sort of personality and outlook just isn’t hip anymore. Fashion is always about moving forward, and Lagerfeld’s beliefs should remain fossilized in the past.

#Karl Lagerfeld #Met Gala

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stevieschrodinger · 10 days

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Part One Two

A small note: if you would like to be added to the tagging list please ask in a reply to the post, I won't check elsewhere.

Eddie’s sitting on the couch. He’s staring into space, a couch cushion clutched tight to his chest.

Steve creeps in after Robin, hears her say, “Eddie?” softly, presumably so she doesn’t startle him.

He’s sitting in the dark, and they both just leave it that way. Probably an unspoken understanding that they don’t want to unsettle Eddie.

They sit down either side of him, Robin rubbing at his back. Steve keeps his hands to himself, not sure what will be welcome, and even less sure what the fuck he should say. Robin’s just better at this sort of stuff than Steve, maybe because she’s a girl or whatever, but she definitely has the emotional intelligence half of the brain.

Steve doesn’t know if there’s anything he even can say in a situation like this.

Eddie’s eyes are red and his face is wet, and he doesn’t move or look at either of them.

Eventually, Robin speaks gently, “Eddie, we can’t stay here.”

Steve figures whoever did live here probably cleared out when everything went to shit. He’s kind of glad; has no fucking idea how he’d explain away Eddie Munson, possible cult leader and serial killer, breaking into their house.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie’s going to say anything, but he does, after a minute, he nods, and says in a croaky voice, “I want to see Wayne.”

“Yeah, of course,” Robin agrees quickly, “we can do that, right Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve replies, trying to sound sure and confident with that, when Eddie flinches. Visibly flinches. Turning away, shuffling closer to Robin’s end of the couch. And, okay.

Robin looks at him over Eddie’s head. Steve shrugs. Robin shrugs back. No idea.

Steve carefully, making no quick movements, moves his hand in front of his mouth, mimes using the walkie. Robin nods.

Steve jogs out to the car, walkie’s everyone real quick so they can stop looking. The others have already woken Wayne up, discovered that Eddie wasn’t there, and then gone looking for Eddie, so they’re going to head back there and wait for Steve and Robin to bring Eddie over. Explain to Wayne that Eddie’s safe so they don’t leave him worrying in the meantime.

Steve creeps back in, hoping Robs has made some progress getting Eddie moving. She hasn’t, and Steve peeks around the corner, listening. Robin is still rubbing at Eddie’s back, but he’s talking, “didn’t make any sense to come here. It’s all wrong. It all looks wrong it’s...not how we had it. Our stuffs not here,” Eddie sniffs, his voice breaking, “I thought I’d find them here.”

And then Eddie is sobbing, face buried into the cushion, sobbing so hard his whole body is hitching. He’s making noises that tear at Steve, it’s one of the worst things Steve has ever seen, such an outpouring of grief. Eddie’s so loud with it, almost wailing, barely able to breathe his chest is so wracked with it.

Steve feels absolutely useless, but Robin’s looking for him over the back of the couch, and as soon as he sees her his feet carry him over. Robin’s crying too. Steve’s pretty sure his own eyes are wet. It’s just so awful to watch. So painful, Eddie’s grief.

Steve realizes now, why Robin was so horrified. The truth of it finally sinking in now he sees the evidence of it. Eddie loved them, loved them so much that loosing them is breaking him.

Steve sits back on the couch, Eddie looking up for a second when he feels the couch dip, and suddenly he’s thrown himself at Steve, still shaking with those heaving sobs as Steve reflexively wraps his arms around him. It hurts like fuck on Steve’s broken ribs, but Steve bites it back, like fuck is reminding Eddie of that right now.

“I shouldn't have come here,” Eddie chokes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Eddie’s making Steve’s neck wet, and his great heaving sobs make Steve arms hitch along with them. Over the fluff of Eddie’s hair, Steve sees it as Rob starts crying fully, wiping at her nose with her sleeve, her face crumpling with it.

Steve swallows thickly, trying to hold it together but knowing he’s loosing it, and he rubs at Eddie's back, telling him, "it's okay, it'll be okay," even though Steve has no idea if it is or even if it ever will be.

It feels like a small eternity before Eddie sits up and finally moves. He doesn’t look at Steve, has his eyes squeezed shut as he scrubs at his face, and when Steve reaches for him, he flinches so hard he almost falls off the couch.

Rob is there for him then, telling him, “easy, easy,” and getting Eddie up and walking him to the car, Eddie half leaning on her.

Eddie’s opening the car door before Steve even fully stops, high tailing it away like his ass is on fire. Wayne is there in the doorway of the motel room.

Easy enough to find, it’s the only motel in Hawkins, and Jon’s car is parked outside the right room.

Wayne opens the door as Steve kills the engine, and Steve watches in the dim light as Eddie practically throws himself at Wayne. He’s sobbing again, Steve can hear it.

Steve’s only half out the car, but Nancy’s there, shaking her head, “we should leave them to it.”

They’re not going to go back to sleep, but they go through the motions anyway. Steve has a shower, really feels like he needs it. He takes a few minutes extra in there, scrubbing at his face and washing his hair, being very careful of his stitches. He gets changed into sleep pants after, and a loose tee shirt, lying in bed. Even if he just lies here, at least it’s rest of some kind. The sun will be up in an hour away, and the kids had said something about helping out at the sports hall, making sandwiches and putting together bundles of emergency supplies and stuff like that.

Steve said he’d drive them.

“Come on Dingus, I can hear you thinking about it.”

“He wouldn’t even look at me, and he flinched Rob, did you see that? And then…” it just doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I did but...out of all of us, you’re the one he hurt the worst. Like, way the worst. He nearly killed you, Steve. Like, literally, if Eddie had taken another ten seconds to wake up, you would have been lights out. Maybe he remembers.”

That does make sense, Steve hums in agreement, that’s got to be hard for him, “yeah.”

“Maybe it’s hard for him to see you because...well. That’s got to be a shitty memory. Plus, trauma does funny things, what if he remembers you fighting back, you know?”

And that’s true, Steve did land one good hit on Eddie with his bat, more reflexive than anything. Before Eddie had taken the thing right out of Steve’s hands and snapped it like it was nothing, that is.

So yeah, maybe, Steve figures, “he was saying sorry.”

Robin hums again.

Steve’s ribs are healed up, his stitches long gone, all his bruises and scrapes are gone. The town is, kind of, back on it’s feet. Sure, there’s probably an abnormally high number of for sale signs in Hawkins, but everyone who was going to come back has done. Enough that Steve’s got part time shifts at the video store, at least. Mostly to keep up appearances; now that it’s all over, Owen’s got them all a pay out. Essentially for damages and trauma or whatever, but also with a very clear ‘keep your mouths shut’ attached to it.

For that first month, Eddie pretty much only speaks to Dustin. He stays with Wayne, and once every couple of days he lets Dustin know that he’s okay. The message Dustin brings back is the same every time, “he’s okay, he just needs some time.”

@autumncrocusandladybug @duckyreads @neonfruitbowl @slv-333 @starlight-archer @skys-archive @justdreamersdream @moomkin77 @prazinos @dragonmama76 @lingeringmirth @darkwitchoferie @weirdandabsurd42 @zoeweee @thennic @xiaq @tinyplanet95 @steddieyourself @chrystal-lovee @futuristicunknown86 @grtwdsmwhr @mugloversonly @wonderland-girl143-blog

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #pre steddie #the party #my writing #steddie dreamed life

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minty364 · 3 months

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DPXDC Prompt #128 part 1

Danny wasn’t sure what exactly happened, but one moment he was hiding out in an alley trying his best to wrap the bandages around his torso and the next he found himself in front of a clown. His thoughts began to blur further as he began to panic. His first instinct was to tighten his fists and move into a defensive position but when he tightened his fist something happened. The clown that had been right in front of them was there and then he wasn’t. The gun he was sure he wasn’t holding before fired and sent the clown away from Danny.

Shock began to set in as he looked down on what he had done. Everything had moved so fast he couldn’t even comprehend it, he didn’t even get a good look at the one he so swiftly ended. The force of the gun caused him to fall back, breathing heavily he stared at the gun before quickly setting it down on the ground making sure the safety was on, he wasn’t risking another death. With the weapon safely placed on the ground he finally decided to take in some of his surroundings.

His soulmate was wearing a helmet and what looked to be some armor, they were in a warehouse of some sort. Danny had forgotten what it felt like to be human and he’d pay a lot more attention if the panic from murder wasn’t setting in. The clown wasn’t moving, they layed there a heap on the floor… Danny really murdered someone. Okay, he could deal with this.

…

Who was he kidding what the hell was he supposed to do? It was then that he saw movement from the corner of his eyes and he truly knew he was fucked. Someone was right by his soulmate while he had his gun pointed at the clown, did his soulmate want the clown dead? His mind was still racing incoherently as he tried to piece together what exactly just happened.

A minute passed or what felt like one, Danny swore Clockwork messed with his sense of time sometimes. He slowly raised his hands after he realized the other wasn’t going to speak, he slowly turned to see the absolute worst person to help in this scenario.

Batman, Danny was pretty sure he was fucked. He was so entirely fucked and it was then that he realized how truly he messed up. His head snapped back over to the clown and yep that’s the Joker, oh he just killed the Joker in front of Batman in his soulmate's body. Did that mean his soulmate knew Batman? Danny was absolutely stunned into silence, he had nothing he could say, who knew his soulmate would have a life probably just as messed up as his.

“Jason…” Batman’s gravelly voice broke Danny out of his thoughts, oh his soulmate's name was Jason.

Danny who finally finds his voice says, “My soulmate's name is Jason?” The voice modulator startled him and it was then that all hell broke loose.

Voices started crackling into his ear with several different people starting to speak at once.

“Did he just say soulmate?”

“Jason this better not be a prank”

“Wait, who pulled the trigger?? I heard that gunshot”

“Enough, keep coms clear” Batman commanded and everything went silent he then turned to address Danny, “come with me, we’ll need to find Jason so you and him will be alone to switch back. We’ll talk about that after.” He didn’t motion with his hands or jerk his head or anything but Danny knew exactly what he meant.

He swallowed harshly and then followed.

—————

Jason found himself no longer holding his guns, no longer in front of the damn clown, and his armor and helmet were gone. He was wearing clothes closer to rags than street clothes and his entire body seemed to ache. This must have been his soulmate's body and they were having a way worse time than Jason was at the moment. There seemed to be hastily done bandages around his waist and he honestly felt like he’d been hit by a truck. He was in an alley thankfully although that also meant he triggered the switch. Everyone knew when you got close enough to your soulmate you switched bodies.

Jason had to get to the closest safe house and hopefully he could do some proper first aid on his soulmate. He stumbled to get on his feet and began to make his way out of the alley.

Im going to update the original post as the master post and you’ll be able to find all future parts there.

Master Post:

#dp x dc prompt #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #poor danny #vivisection #tw vivisection #soulmates au #Batman saw Danny kill the Joker but thought he was Jason #part 1 #tw swearing #prompt fill #even if I fill my own prompts I still encourage people to write their own #A lot of my prompts are ambiguous on purpose #my asks are open #all my prompts are free to use

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parkerslatte · 3 months

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Finding Home || Part One

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: loneliness.

Summary: Azriel never thought he would find someone who loves him. Everyone around him has their own life and family and he feels like he is floating between them with no real purpose. When he meets someone in the rain, everything might begin to change.

Finding Home Masterlist

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

A/N: I might make this into a series if people enjoy it…because I have many ideas.

•••

In his whole life, Azriel just wanted to be loved by someone. Over his five centuries of existence, he has taken plenty of lovers, both females and males. Though to each and every one of the people he had lain with, he never felt any sort of attachment to them. They had never spent the night with him, when he awoke in the morning, the other side of the bed was empty and cold, a clear indication that they had left hours before. Some left a small note thanking him for a good night but most left with no word never to be seen again.

At the beginning, this did not affect Azriel. He was simply young and looking for a bit of fun. But as time has gone on, the more Azriel longed to wake up next to someone. To have the side of the bed warm and the sound of his love walking about the house. To feel the soft caress of their skin as they fell asleep with each other's arms. Whispers of loving words exchanged before they both drifted to that relaxing, unconscious space only dreaming of one another.

Azriel longed for that. He longed for a home. He longed for his own family.

Nyx was nearly ten years old and Feyre was again pregnant with her and Rhys’s second child. Cassian had recently told Azriel that he and Nesta were trying for a child. Azriel was happy for them, elated even. But there was a small stinging pain in his heart. The pain of knowing that his family was moving on with their own lives without him. They each had their own families to care for and worry about. He was no one's priority.

At Solstice, Azriel was always the one standing on the sidelines. Rhys had Feyre. Cassian and Nesta. Lucien had Elain. Mor had Emerie. Amren had Varien. Every single member of his family had someone that they cared for and would die to protect. Azriel could only wish he had that type of love.

There was once a time where he thought he and Elain could work out. Three sisters for three brothers, it all made sense in Azriel’s mind. But after that initial lust faded away, Azriel realised how incompatible they were. Their conversations turned stale and awkward and Azriel would always catch her sneaking glances at Lucien. It wasn’t long before Elain began to pursue the youngest Vanserra– leaving Azriel alone once again.

Currently, Azriel swirled his whisky around in his glass. He hadn’t taken a sip from it as he stood near the door. It was Solstice and all the presents had been exchanged and now everyone was happily sitting and talking, lounging around on the couches and chairs. Azriel was the only one not sitting. His shadows swirled around the room, as they usually did whenever everyone was together. If anything were to attack, Azriel would be the first line of defence. Everyone else had a family or were going to have a family, they had everything to lose– he didn’t.

There was a pull at the bottom of Azriel’s trouser leg and he glanced down. Elain and Lucien’s one year old daughter sat there smiling up at him. Azriel offered her a smile as one of his shadows caressed her cheek and she let out a delighted giggle. Using his pant leg, she heaved herself from the floor and demanded to be picked up. Azriel’s face clouded over in amusement as he bent down and took the young fae into his arms.

The girl simply looked around, not used to being up so high. Azriel watched her look of amusement with fondness. Her red hair bright in the dim lighting of the room, and her deep brown eyes wide in wonder.

“Hycinth?” Elain said as she looked around for her daughter before relaxing once she found her in Azriel’s arms.

As soon as the young girl heard her mother, she struggled to get out of Azriel’s arms and he let her down without a fuss. She crawled over to her mother and up onto her lap while Lucien watched his daughter fondly. Azriel folded his arms across his chest, his heart feeling like it was being poked by a million pins. Nyx was sleeping with his head resting on Rhys’s. Nesta was sitting in Cassian’s lap, looking so in love with each other that it made Azriel stop breathing. The same went for all of the couples, they had so much love for each other that they could only focus within their small circle.

None of them even noticed when Azriel slipped out of the house and into the night.

It was raining when Azriel got outside, his clothes immediately soaked through and his hair was plastered to his forehead. Though he didn’t care in the slightest, he continued to walk through the torrential downpour until he made it to a bench by the park.

He should have stayed at the house, it would only bring to the surface more questions as to why Azriel was distancing himself from his family. Seeing them altogether was always bittersweet for Azriel. Of course he loved his family, he always would, but seeing them together with their own families and their own lives. Azriel was not sure where he slotted in amongst them anymore. He didn’t have anyone to love. He didn’t have his own family. He was alone.

The rain continued around him and Azriel didn’t move. The chill of the wind and his soaked clothes only made him colder but he didn’t care. He would stay here all night if he had to, for the rain to wash away everything he had been feeling tonight. Tomorrow he would start with a clean slate, maybe he would feel better about everything tomorrow. Azriel hoped when he woke up everyday that this was the answer. He hoped that he woke up one day and did not care. But Azriel knew that the cycle was always doomed to repeat itself.

As Azriel was deep within his own thoughts, he failed to notice the rain no longer falling upon him. It fell around him but never on him. He wasn’t broken from his continuous strain of thoughts until he felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

Azriel’s head snapped in the direction the touch came from, his shadows swirled around his shoulders like snakes preparing to strike. What Azriel didn’t expect was a female holding an umbrella over his head, staging at him with concern.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “It’s just…you’ve been sitting here for an hour. I walked past earlier to buy some bread and you were here and I’m on my way home now and you are still here. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”

Azriel was at a loss for words. Anything that he could say was lost on the tip of his tongue. Articulating his feelings was never his strong point.

“It’s raining a lot,” the female said, trying to have a conversation. “It seems to be raining a lot more recently. Have you noticed?”

“I have noticed,” Azriel muttered.

“So he does speak,” the female said, a small smile gracing her features.

Azriel met her eyes, and for some reason, he felt himself smiling back. It was probably barely noticeable to her but to him, the feeling felt foreign.

“So,” the female said, taking a seat on the bench next to Azriel. “Are you okay?”

With a heavy sigh, Azriel answered, “No, actually. I’m not. It’s Solstice, I should be spending it with my family but I’m sitting out here in the rain alone.” Azriel couldn’t stop the words freely flowing from his mouth. “I tried to enjoy myself, I really did. But all of them each have someone they love to celebrate with. They each have someone to go home with and have their own celebration. They have children or are going to have children and I’m just there by myself. I just constantly feel so–”

“Alone?” the female cut in.

Azriel’s gaze met hers and she held a sympathetic expression on her face. “Yes. I feel alone. And I don’t even know why I am telling you this. I don’t even know you.”

The female shrugged. “Sometimes it's good to get things off your chest, even if it's someone you don’t know. It can sometimes be bad to keep everything bottled up.”

Azriel relaxed his shoulders the smallest amount. “I do feel slightly better after getting that off my chest.”

The female smiled brightly. It somehow lit up the darkness around them. “I’m glad I could help you relieve some tension you are holding in those shoulders. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Y/N,” Azriel repeated her name. It felt right coming from his mouth. “I’m Azriel.”

Y/N looked away sheepishly. “I did have an idea of who you are.”

“Oh,” Azriel replied, feeling slightly disappointed.

“I didn’t know when I first walked over here,” Y/N said. “I only realised when one of your shadows did this.”

Y/N held up her arm and one of Azriel’s shadows lightly caressed her wrist. Azriel’s eyes widened.

“I’m so sorry,” Azriel replied, reeling in all of his shadows. “They don’t normally do that.”

Y/N chuckled slightly and it was a melodic sound that cut through the air. “It’s okay.”

Azriel nodded before he looked down at the ground. “So, why are you out on Solstice?”

Y/N offered him a tight lipped smile. “Well, my friends all have their own large families to spend Solstice with. I was invited to a few of their houses but decided to stay home and have a night to myself. I’m only out because I needed to pick up some bread because I wanted to make a sandwich.”

“Are you not lonely?” Azriel asked the question before he could even stop himself.

Y/N shook her head. “Not anymore. At first I was, I mean when your friends start moving on without you, everything seems to change so fast. All of their time was taken up by their children and partner. But as time went on, I began to get used to it and realise that I’m not lonely as I have people around me that love me and support me. I am simply choosing to be alone right now,” Y/N said. “And I’m glad I did, because I wouldn’t have bumped into you. Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome.”

Azriel flushed and looked down at his feet, not expecting the compliment. Y/N simply laughed. That melodic tone once again cutting through the air.

“Do you want to come back to mine?” Y/N asked. “I can make us sandwiches?”

Azriel knew his answer immediately but took a moment to answer as if he was contemplating the decision. He didn’t want to look too eager. “I would like that.”

Y/N smiled brightly. “Come on then! The sooner we get there, the sooner I can change into some dry clothes.”

Azriel looked at her and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. While she had been shielding him with her umbrella, she hadn’t held it above herself, causing her clothes to soak through, much like Azriel’s.

“Take the umbrella back,” Azriel said, pushing her hand away that was clutching the umbrella.

“No,” Y/N said stubbornly and grabbed Azriel’s arm and forced the umbrella into his hand and folded her arms across her chest. “You take it and keep hold of it until we get to my apartment. Now come on.”

Azriel followed her and fell into pace next to her. Even though she was putting on a determined face, Azriel could see through the facade as she shivered as the cold rain poured down upon her. Stretching one of his wings, Azriel lifted it until it shielded her from the rain the best he could. Y/N looked up at him in surprise, her shivering ceasing the smallest amount as his wing blocked out the wind.

Y/N smiled at him as she hesitantly wrapped her hand around his arm. “You are getting my most amazing sandwich for that.”

A full smile bloomed on Azriel’s face as he walked with Y/N to her apartment. Maybe he didn’t need to be so alone after all.

#azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fluff

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klausysworld · 10 months

Note

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a one shot of klaus x reader. Where reader is apart of Elena’s group of friends but klaus’s mate and she’s made to choose between her friends or klaus and klaus doesn’t think she’ll choose him and tells her it’s ok but she surprised everyone and chooses klaus and betrays Elena for him

You can put as much angst as you want.

Thanks 😊

Forever

A soulmate wasn’t something Klaus had been expecting when he came to Mystic falls to break his curse. And at first the idea was ridiculous to him and he saw it as a weakness.

But there was something about her that pulled him in. Deep down he knew that she was perfect for him, and he would do whatever he had to do that he could be perfect for her too.

Even if it meant not having her.

She wouldn’t choose him, he was sure of it. Not after everything he had done to those she considered family.

Time after time he had blown up her life and every time he could feel her disappointment as she looked from him to her friends, ultimately walking away from him each and every time.

And when it was time for him to leave and go to New Orleans, he didn’t believe it was worth asking her to come with him, he was so certain that she wouldn’t want to at all.

When she found out he was leaving, her heart and soul ached. She loved her friends, she did but she also knew that they would never love her as much as she did them. Elena would always come first, compared to Elena (which she frequently was) she was nothing.

She thought that maybe Klaus would have at least mentioned it to her instead of her finding out from an overjoyed Damon.

See they spoke fairly often, even if neither of them really noticed, whenever they were in the grill minutes would turn into hours. At the ball she had seen a painting of herself which Klaus instantly became embarrassed of and ushered her down the stairs.

She knew that he wanted her, why would he leave her behind? She wasn’t sure until he came to say goodbye.

———————————————————————

“I’m sure you know by now that I’m leaving, I’m going to New Orleans…I uh…I’d ask you to come but I think we both know that wouldn’t happen so um..I wanted to give you some things” he whispered, his brows furrowed as he swallowed the lump in his throat. He was looking anywhere other than her eyes as he handed her a gift bag of sorts. “I wasn’t sure how to give it to you so um…” he let out a breath as she took it from him, her hand brushing his.

He fell quiet as she looked through the things before looking up at him in confusion “keys?”

“To my- your house” he murmured and her lips parted in surprise

“Klaus-“

“I know it’s a little much, you can sell it if you like…you can do whatever you like with it and anything you find inside. I’ve left my number on a card just incase you get a new phone and you ever need me for anything or if…well anything” he mumbled while showing her the card

He looked at her for a moment, she remained in a state of shock as she looked back at him.

Hesitantly he took a step closer to her, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. His face nuzzled her hair as he closed his eyes. She returned his hug until a throat clearing drew them both back to where they were.

Klaus moved away from her, a lingering kiss on her forehead before he disappeared from in front of her.

———————————————————————

She hated every second he was gone.

She hated being in the grill and not being able to find him.

She hated that he wouldn’t randomly appear just to ask about her day.

She hated the way her friends spoke about him.

She hated how they blamed him for every little thing.

She hated how they called her crazy when she defended him

She hated how they hated him.

She hated that she loved him.

And not because she didn’t want to love him but because she wasn’t allowed to.

And it took her weeks to realise that the people who were supposed to be her family wouldn’t do this to her if they cared about her.

So after arguing for days, objects thrown and screams aimed at each other, she found herself in New Orleans.

She had knocked but he wasn’t in which should have told her to go away but she instead she managed to get inside and worked out which room was his.

She snooped as most people would and smiled at the array of paintings and sketches of herself. She saddened at the letters he had written to her but never sent.

Her fingers tapped along the edge of the book she had found in his room, not something she would have thought he’d read but still engaging.

Halfway in she heard the door slam downstairs and a range of angry voices before more doors were thrown open and closed. Heavy footsteps made their way up the stairs before he walked in.

His hands rubbed his eyes and pushed his hair back as he sighed. She put the book down and waited patiently for him to notice her in the room with him.

He kept his face in his hands for a moment longer making her frown and get up quietly, she silently pulled his wrists away from his face. His eyes locked on hers in an instant, his expression softening as he blinked in confusion.

“Bad day?” She asked gently and he breathed out a soft laugh as his arms circled her body. She smiled to herself as she pressed her forehead against his with a content sigh.

“What are you doing here?” He whispered though not in any way complaining

“I was hoping I could stay…if you’ll have me”

“Of course I’ll have you, you’ll stay as long as you’ll let me have you” he muttered, his nose just touching hers and their lips barely brushing each others.

“I think I’ll love you forever” she whispered and he felt a grin pill at his lips

“Then you can stay forever, for I will love you always”

And with that, their lips finally met.

1K notes · View notes

eddiemunsons80sbaby · 11 months

Text

Nobody Needs to Know Pt. 2

Pairing: EddiexFemReader

Summary: After the miscommunication between you and Eddie, you've been trying to talk to him but have been thwarted at every turn. You show up at his trailer to sort things out and...😉

18+ Only

Part 1

You had tried to talk to Eddie multiple times about what happened, but he had been avoiding you all week. You waited at his locker the day after the incident but he quickly turned and walked away the moment he saw you coming. You tried to approach the Hellfire table at lunch but were blocked by his cronies, Gareth and Jeff, who let you know that you weren’t welcome.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The thing with Eddie was supposed to be simple, hot sex in secret, nobody knowing, only making it that much hotter. You had plans. Eddie Munson didn’t fit into those plans. He was the complete opposite of everything you were, everything you saw in your life, but your heart didn’t seem to care. At some point in all this clandestine meeting, you’d developed feelings for him and you hated it.

You hated it because you couldn’t think about anything else. You sat in class, completely missing everything the teacher was saying, because you were staring at the back of Eddie’s head, the way the light from the window caught those dark waves and made them shimmer as they moved constantly from all of his fidgeting. You watched his leg bounce up and down as if revving up for the moment the bell rang so he could hightail it out of there. Your body heated when he would inevitably spread his legs wide, rolling his neck, his body incapable of sitting still for too long. You watched him bring the pencil to his mouth, chewing on the wood. You pressed your lips together to fight a smile when his head would start bopping to the music only he could hear in his head and then came the pencils, drumming out a silent beat in the air.

You tried to tell yourself this was for the best. You were heading off to college in just a few short months. What was the point in getting tangled up in a relationship right now? Especially a relationship that had zero chance of going anywhere. Eddie was going to remain in Hawkins. You knew this because somewhere along the lines it had stopped being just sex, and you’d started having conversations, lying next to him on the blanket in the woods, getting high, sharing your life stories, your plans. He was getting any job he could so he could save up enough money for his band to make their way to L.A. and try to make it big. He wasn’t going to follow you to college.

But no matter what you told yourself, here you were, in Forest Hills trailer park, in front of the small, dingy place the long-haired metalhead called home. You had simply gone for a walk, hoping to clear your head, to stop obsessing about him, but your feet had somehow led you here, as if your body was accepting something your brain didn’t want to.

“Fuck…” you muttered to yourself, pacing back and forth, taking long, slow breaths as you tried to steady yourself. You knew Eddie lived with his uncle. Was he here right now? You didn’t really want a show while you possibly humiliated yourself. Stopping, you pressed your fingers against your forehead, wondering what in the hell you were doing. “This is so stupid.”

You turned, intending to walk away, nobody the wiser that you’d been hanging outside of Eddie’s place but fate had other plans. The door of the trailer opened and you spun back to see a figure framed by light in the doorway. There was no mistaking who it was, not with that mane of hair. Groaning, you wondered if you could just run. Could he even see you in the dark?

“Henderson?” he asked in disbelief.

Well, shit. There would be no pretending you hadn’t walked all the way to Eddie’s trailer now. You took a few steps forward, not approaching him, but not wanting to look like a freak who stalked his house and then ran when he noticed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Eddie pressed when you still hadn’t said anything.

“I…well…uh…I was…son of a bitch!” You spun in a circle, huffing loudly, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. He was staring at you, those brown eyes wide, one eyebrow cocked slightly up as he took in what had to be you looking insane. “You know what? Just forget it. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. I am just going to go. Forget you ever saw me.”

Just as fast as you turned, fingers wrapped around your wrist in an iron grip, holding you in place. You looked back to find Eddie looking at you, that wary look replaced with…what was that? He almost looked hopeful, but that couldn’t be. He hated the very sight of you these days. You were just seeing what you wanted to see.

“You walked all the way to my trailer, pacing in front of it in the dark, and you expect me to forget it happened?” Eddie demanded, his voice hard and angry but there was a subtle quaking underneath each word that made you think he might not be as mad as he was letting on. “You don’t get to act like a creeper and then tell me to pretend I didn’t see it. This isn’t where you belong, princess. Don’t you know you walked to the loser side of town? What the hell did you come all the way out here for?”

“You know what? You’re an asshole,” you huffed, yanking your arm back from him.

“I’m the asshole?” he scoffed, fingers pressing into his Metallica shirt as he laughed. “That’s rich. You’re the one who thinks you’re too fucking good to be seen with me. Can’t have Hawkins High’s little princess seen with the lowlife trailer trash freak, now can we? That might tarnish your perfect little reputation. You wouldn’t want people to know how low you really sunk, letting me fuck you in janitor’s closets, the drama classroom, the back of my van, the boys bathroom…what would happen if all your friends knew just how dirty you really are?”

“You’re a dick!” you shrieked, shoving him in the chest with your hands. “You stood there, asking me out, but you don’t actually want to date me. All you really want is the clout of everyone knowing you got to fuck me, someone you think is some kind of high school princess! You think the whole school will suddenly look at you differently because you screwed the good girl with the straight A’s? The girl who was homecoming queen? I’m guessing I’m not the first good girl or popular girl you’ve taken in the back of your van. Is this some kind of conquest for you like your stupid little game you play?”

“No fucking way! You do not get to turn this around on me! I’m not the one who’s playing games, sweetheart,” he yelled back, his arms flailing wildly around him. “For your information, I don’t just go around fucking any girl and it wasn’t a damn conquest for me! You’re the one who thought it would be fun to roll in the mud for a while. You’re the one who likes the danger of hooking up with the town freak, but it’s only fun as long as nobody knows!”

“I never said that!” you argued. “I was not the one who said we could keep it a secret. You said that! That first night we hooked up, after Harrington’s party, you said nobody needs to know. This can be our dirty little secret. It’s more fun that way. Or don’t you remember because you were fucking high and wasted?”

“So were you! That’s what started the whole fucking thing. You came over to me to buy weed! You’re the one who initiated this fucked up agreement!”

“No, no, no! I just wanted to buy it. You’re the one who suggested we smoke together in the back of your van. You started this shit!”

“Of course. What? I tricked you into spreading your legs like a good little whore for me that night? The way I remember it, you were plenty eager, begging for me to fuck you.”

You lunged for him, going to push him again, but he grabbed onto both of your wrists, yanking you toward him, pinning you against his chest. Your bodies locked together; heavy, hot breaths mingling as you both heaved from anger; eyes locked on one another, glaring, furious. Your brain was muddled, synapses malfunctioning, firing in all the wrong ways. Your feet should be moving away. You should push him back and walk away from this. This was all wrong but your body wouldn’t move.

“I hate you…” you whispered, but there was no venom in your voice.

“Yeah, I know,” he breathed, his voice a low rumble, and then his lips were on yours, hard, unyielding, tongue demanding entry as it pressed into your mouth, teeth scraping your bottom lip roughly.

Eddie’s hands kept you in that vice grip, your bodies melded together. You could feel his erection pressing against your lower belly and a moan you couldn’t control rose from within you at the reminder of how good that cock felt inside you. It had only been a week but your body craved it like a goddamn drug. He was just that damn good, but you’d never give him the satisfaction of telling him that.

“No…no…stop…” you gasped against his mouth, coming to your senses, fighting his hold. The minute you gave him resistance, his fingers slackened. Eddie liked to be in charge but he never did anything you didn’t want.

“What?” he groaned, rolling his eyes. “Isn’t this what you want? Sex with me in the dark, where no one can see?”

“No, I…this isn’t what I want!”

“Then what do you want, princess, because you’re giving me serious whiplash here. You don’t want to go out with me but you don’t want to do it in secret so what exactly are you here for?”

“I…Jesus, you make this so hard.”

“No, you made this hard.” He gestured down his crotch. “And now you’re backpedaling. So, what do you want?”

“I want you.”

“I’m trying to give that to you,” Eddie argued, holding his hands out in front of him. “My uncle’s not home. We can do it in a real bed this time. I’ve even got handcuffs and nobody would know. This trailer park is real good at ignoring any odd sounds they hear. It’s a fairly regular occurrence. Someone could be getting murdered and they’d all stay locked up in their shitty cells, turn up their tv, and pretend they don’t hear it. So…if you want me, then…” His hands gripped your hips, pulling you into him, lips pressing just below your ear.

“Eddie, stop,” you breathed, fighting the urge to just give in to him, to follow him into that trailer, avoid this conversation, and do what the two of you did best.

“Fuck, seriously…” he sighed, releasing you and backing away, hands raised in the air. “Then go home. Go back to your nice little suburban oasis with all your friends and your mommy and be the person you like to pretend you are.”

“Could you stop being an asshole for like five seconds?” you pleaded. “I’m trying to tell you something and you’re making me rethink it every single time you open your damn mouth.”

“Well, by all means princess, say what you need to say. I’m all ears.”

“I like you, Eddie,” you spat out, just letting it all go before you thought too hard about it and chickened out. “I didn’t want to. I wanted this to just be sex but it’s not. Somewhere along the line, I started to really like you. I don’t think I’m better than you. I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks. And maybe we are the most horrible match ever, I don’t know, but it doesn’t seem to matter because I still want to be with you. I want to go out with you…like somewhere that’s not your van or a closet. I want to see a movie or get ice cream or go to the arcade. I want to do more than just…whatever the hell this is. And if you would have given me a goddamn minute to process what you’d said in that closet, then you’d know that. I didn’t hesitate because I didn’t want to. I hesitated because you surprised me. I’m not exactly what I would think you’d want. I’m not metal. I’m not a bad girl…”

“Oh, you’re a bad girl…”

“Shut up,” you sighed. “Are you hearing anything I’m saying?”

“I hear you,” Eddie nodded, his expression turning serious. He glanced down, twisting his ring slowly on his finger. “Listen, just because I’m into shit doesn’t mean you have to be for me to like you. That night at the party, I couldn’t believe my fucking luck. I have been pining after you for months, from the first time I came to your house. You remember that day?” You nodded. “I stopped over to give Dustin his Hellfire shirt and you answered the door in those itty bitty shorts and that Bowie shirt that you’d cut off so that little sliver of stomach was showing and I was a fucking goner. Why the hell do you think I kept coming around your place?”

“I thought you were just there to see my brother…”

“Man, I love that little shrimp but you really think I wanted to spend hours hanging out with a freshman all the time?” Eddie laughed. “No, I kept trying to work up the courage to say something to you but I couldn’t. I figured you’d laugh in my face. You were like…this unreachable thing. You were beautiful, smart…you were fucking perfect and I’m me. Why the hell would you ever look twice at me?”

“Jesus Christ, Eddie, I looked more than twice,” you groaned. “I opened that door and thought the metal gods had delivered a gift to me on my doorstep. That hair, those eyes, that goddamn dimple you get when you smile…the way that chain hangs on your jeans…” You paused, laughing. “I thought you’d never be interested in me. I figured you went for metal chicks in leather and denim with dark make-up and badass attitudes. I was none of those things.”

“You’re everything,” he said softly and you inhaled sharply, his words a shock to your system. “When we hooked up, I thought that would be it. When it kept happening, I just figured I’d take what I could get.” Eddie shrugged, that soft smile playing on his lips, causing that sweet dimple, that you just wanted to dive into, appear. “I kept telling myself that was all it was, but then you didn’t just take off after sex. We’d lay together and talk and I was getting to know you, the real you, the one you keep hidden from everyone to protect that perfect image everyone wants to see, and I knew it was more. I knew it was going to hurt like hell when you decided you were done with me but I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t just walk away.”

“Me too,” you replied, stepping into him, taking his hands in yours. “So, Eddie Munson, will you go on a date with me? A real date where everyone can see us?”

“You mean, where everyone can see you’re mine,” he teased, eyes flashing mischievously before his head dipped down, tongue tracing the shell of your ear before pulling the lobe between his lips. “Is that what this is? Are you mine completely now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped, a familiar ache developing in your center. “I’m all yours.”

In one swift motion, Eddie heaved you over his shoulder, you crying out in surprise. He made his way toward the trailer, pushing the door open and then kicking it shut behind him. You tried to glance around this space where Eddie lived but he took you right into his bedroom, throwing you down on the bed.

“Fuck, I have been dying for this all damn week,” he rumbled, calloused fingers on your thighs, making their way up the little skirt you were wearing. “Watching you cross those legs in class, bending over to get your lunch out of your backpack, stretching your arms so your shirt rode up up just enough, giving me a view of all this beautiful skin…I know you were doing it on purpose, weren’t you?”

“No…” you gasped as those fingers began playing along the edge of your panties, his finger dipping just under but not touching you.

“Oh, I know you were,” Eddie hummed, his thumb sliding through your slick, brushing over your clit, causing your hips to buck up toward him, your body needing his touch. “Mmm…you’re such a naughty girl, princess. I think you might need to be punished for teasing me like that. What do you think?”

His hands left and you whimpered, opening your eyes to see why and they widened at the sight of him with a devilish grin on his face, handcuffs dangling off his finger. A shiver of nerves and excitement raced across your skin as you imagined what he might do with those.

“Now, be a good girl for me and put those arms up above your head,” he ordered and you didn’t even consider disobeying, your pussy throbbing with anticipation. You raised your arms up and Eddie clicked first one and then the other cuff over your wrists, keeping your hands locked together. His head dipped down, nose running over your cheek, hand sliding down the front of your body and under your skirt, cupping your pussy in his palm. You tried to grind against him and he chuckled. “Oh my, so needy. Not so fast, sweetheart. You still need to take your punishment like a good girl before I give you exactly what you want.”

“Anything…fuck…” you begged, your body wound so tight you thought you would shatter with the force of it.

Eddie laid down on the bed next to you, grabbing onto your hips, propping your panty covered center right over his face with your back to him. You gasped, relief flooding through you that you were about to get the release your body needed. But then he reached around you, undoing his pants and pushing them just past his hips, his cock springing free, a bead of wetness shining along the top.

“Show me how sorry you are, sweetheart. Show me how much you want it and then you’ll get what you need,” he stated and then his hand came down to crack against the skin of your ass. You cried out, back arching. “Come on, be my good girl and show me how much you love that cock.”

Eddie’s hand slid along your spine, pressing you forward, his touch firm but also gentle enough that you could resist if you wanted but you didn’t want. You wanted to give this man the best blowjob he’d ever had. You wanted to make him come completely undone.

Eagerly, you followed his lead, tilting your body forward, pressing your cuffed wrists against the mattress to prop yourself up. You didn’t require your hands as little Eddie was standing at full attention, just waiting for your eager mouth. Darting your tongue out, you flicked the top, capturing the wetness that had already collected there, earning a pleased hiss from Eddie as his hands kneaded the flesh of your ass.

You ran your tongue along his length, up and down the sides and the top, wishing you had your hands free so you really get him going by playing with his balls, something you’d been pleased to find would have him writhing helplessly but you would have to make do because he clearly wasn’t releasing you anytime soon. Wrapping your lips around the tip, you flicked your tongue back and forth over the slit again, pleased when he bucked his hips toward you, trying to get you to take him deeper.

“Are you still teasing?” Eddie hissed, his hand coming across your ass hard again. “That’s not being a very good girl, sweetheart. I thought you wanted me to do this.”

His warm tongue flattened against your panties, running over your slit, causing you to squeal and press yourself back against him. But his hands gripped your ass, keeping you back, keeping you from getting what your pussy was pulsing for.

“Damn, your panties are already soaked, darling,” he commented and you could hear the satisfied smirk even without seeing his face. He nuzzled his nose over your clit before pressing you forward again, leaving you throbbing…aching…so fucking needy that you would agree to anything for him to finally give you what you needed. “Yeah, I know exactly what you want. Give me what I want and I will be more than happy to return the favor.”

You wrapped your lips around his cock once again, this time taking him all the way in, sinking further until he was scratching the back of your throat. Eddie growled, fingertips digging into your ass so deeply, there were sure to be marks and that excited you. You never knew you wanted someone to mark you as theirs until Eddie. But you were his completely. No one else had ever made you feel like he did, desired, sexy, smart, worthy. Every other guy was just worried about their own needs. Eddie always made sure you had your needs met.

“That’s a good girl. Suck that cock down,” he groaned.

You worked him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, releasing him to lick the deep red flesh, flicking the tip, until he was a mess of sounds behind you, his hips working to match the rhythm of your mouth. Your pussy was soaked, so turned on by the reaction you could get from him with just your mouth.

“I think you deserve a gift,” he grunted, pushing your panties to the side, his face diving in between your legs. You cried out in shock and deep relief as he wiggled his face from side to side, his lips over your clit, his nose pressing against your entrance and his cock slid from your mouth. “Don’t stop, sweetheart or I’m going to have to stop too.”

You latched your mouth around his cock again, struggling to focus, trying to work him furiously as he sucked your clit between his lips. Your thighs clenched around his head and Eddie moaned, gripping them with his hands, his tongue circling and then flicking, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you.

“Fuck yes, smother me with that pussy, princess,” he commanded.

You were more than happy to oblige, rocking your hips, rolling yourself over him, his lips, his nose hitting all the right damn places. Your mouth slacked on him and he slapped your ass again, a reminder that was a two way deal. You continued to work him, sucking harder, the sounds of your simultaneous moans filling the space around you.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you moaned, gasping before wrapping your lips around him again.

“Come on, sweetheart. Come with me. I’m so close, baby,” he growled, thumb working over your clit as his tongue dove into you, exploring.

You were so damn close. You whimpered around his cock as your hips moved over his face, taking exactly what you needed. Eddie grunted, your only warning before his release flooded your mouth. You kept your lips wrapped tightly even as your own orgasm flooded over you, your moans smothered around his length, your body shaking, thighs clamped around his head. Eddie’s tongue never stopped, working you through each wave of pleasure as you rode it out. You swallowed, head collapsing against his thigh.

“Fuck…” you whimpered, muscles still quaking from the intense pleasure you’d just experienced.

“You read my mind.”

Eddie sat up, gripping your hips and spinning you over onto your back. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand, rolling it over himself, already hard and ready to go again. Jesus, this man and his stamina. It was unbelievable how quickly he was ready to go. His hand came down, wrapping around your wrists and holding them over your head as his other hand guided his cock to your entrance.

“Who does this pussy belong to?” he growled, barely entering you, not enough and so much all at once.

“You,” you cried, hips rolling toward him.

“That’s right. This pussy is mine. It belongs to me.” He thrust into you, his pelvis grinding against your ass so tightly you could feel his heavy balls pressing against your ass. “You’re mine, princess…every single inch of you.” His hand left your wrists, both of them now trailing over your body as he slid in and out of you slowly, as if he were savoring every single moment. “This is all mine.”

“All yours…yes…fuck…”

You lost all capacity for complete sentences or coherent thoughts as his hands gripped your breasts, thumbs gliding over your nipples. His movements became more frenzied, rocking into you with enough force to send your body rocking up the bed each time, the bed knocking into the thin wall of his bedroom. Your eyes rolled up in your head, closing.

“Yes, pretty girl,” he breathed, fingers now grasping your chin. “Look at me. I want to see your face when I make you come all over this cock.”

A guttural sound you didn’t even know you were capable of rose up from deep within you as you opened your eyes to find those chocolate ones staring you down with such intensity. It was as if he was claiming not only your body but your heart and soul. At that moment, he could have anything he wanted as he lifted your leg, propping it over his shoulder, pressing deeper within you, hitting spaces that had your toes curling, had you gasping for breath you couldn’t catch.

“That’s a good girl,” Eddie praised, rutting himself deep within you, his dark waves tickling your cheeks. “All mine.” His lips devoured yours like he was a man starving, kisses warm and wet, sucking your bottom lip, nipping at the tender flesh, his tongue dancing along your own, his mouth swallowing your cries.

You were desperate to touch him, to dig your nails into his back, to claim him as yours the way he was claiming you. You pulled your mouth from his and latched onto his neck, sucking at the sensitive skin, wanting to leave your own mark. Eddie growled, his hand cradling the back of your head, pressing you against his neck.

“Jesus H. Christ, sweetheart,” he hissed. “You’re not the good girl everyone wants you to be. I fucking love that I’m the only one who gets to see this side of you.”

“More,” you grunted. “Harder…fuck me harder.”

You wrapped your other leg around his ass, using it to pull him deeper into you, the two of you grunting at the pleasure it sent shooting through you. Your words and actions only spurred him on and soon the sounds of your flesh colliding echoed through the small space, the two of you a grunting, writhing mess of sweat and passion.

“Eddie! Yes!” you screamed as you came again, your walls pulsing around him, pulling him in more tightly.

Eddie’s lips found yours again, his thrusting never ceasing, his chest heaving as you throbbed around his cock. One hand on your wrists, the other on your hip, he thrust fast and hard, close to the edge. You could always tell. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth, eyes shut, forehead scrunched.

“Fuck, baby…I’m gonna…” he began and then his teeth were biting down into your shoulder, his pelvis flush against you, as he orgasmed again. “Son of a bitch…”

“I can’t move…” you whispered, giggling. “My legs won’t work. You’ve broken me.”

Eddie grinned, running that tongue along his bottom lip. His thumb caressed your jaw as he kissed your nose, “No worries, princess. You don’t need to move.”

He disposed of the condom quickly before laying next to you in bed on his side. You turned over, facing him, both of you grinning like a couple of idiots. Was this what falling in love felt like? You weren’t sure, but you definitely thought it had the potential to be.

“That was…I don’t even think there’s a word to describe what that was,” you said.

“That was perfect,” Eddie replied. He paused, that tongue poking back out again. His eyes darted away from you. “I…uh…I mean, if we’re going to try dating…I was just wondering if…”

“What?” you asked, laughing. “After what we just did, I wouldn’t think there’s anything you could say that would embarrass you.”

“I was wondering if I could hold you?” he asked, his request so soft you almost didn’t hear it. “I mean, I know we don’t do that but that was when we were just fucking. If we’re dating, then we can do that, right?”

“Oh,” you replied in surprise and watched as his face fell. You scooted closer to him, curling up against him. His eyes widened as he looked down at you and you smiled. Eddie instantly relaxed, his arms coming around you, tucking you into the safest place you’d ever been. Your whole body melted against his, as if it recognized this as where it belonged. “Mmm…I could get used to this.”

“Yeah?” he queried, kissing your forehead. “Me too. So, what should we do on our first date?”

You shrugged, “I don’t know. Where would you want to go?”

“Do you like the drive-in?”

“I do,” you began and then laughed, “but is that just a ploy to get some action in the back of your van again.”

“Maybe, but I’d buy you dinner first.”

“Oh, well then it’s a deal,” you grinned and then his lips were on yours again and you thought you could definitely get used to this.

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#eddie munson #eddie the banished #stranger things eddie #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x femreader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x henderson!reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie x you #eddie x reader

2K notes · View notes

c0eu4 · 1 month

Note

I know this one is a little sad but

Do you think you could write one of the drivers finding their gfs self offing note? And one of the thoughts running through his mind thinking that she was introverted but she was always happy?

DR3 | What happened?

danielricciardo x fem!depress!reader

Summary : When Daniel found your suicide note.

Warning : suicide note, depression, fluff, hurt/comfort

A/n : Here, reader is depressed. It includes everything like lack of hygiene, no motivation... Please, do not read this if it can trigger you!

MASTERLIST requests are close

Daniel jumps on you and wraps his arms around you. He attacks your face with kisses, until it takes your breath away and makes you groan in displeasure.

''c'mon babe, get up!'' He told you as he continued his kisses and moved them down to your neck.

''Mhhh Dan! Move!'' You lazily push him away, rolling him onto the other side of the bed. He rolls onto his side, raising his head as he rests his head in his hand. He uses his other hand to clear your face of the few strands of hair hiding your face, tucking them behind your ears. But you push his hand away again and put the hood of your sweater on, then sink back into the blanket, pulling it up to your nose.

Daniel sighs. He noticed that you haven't been feeling well lately. You spend all your time in the bedroom and he has to force you out of bed every morning to take you somewhere. And sometimes he even has to remind you to do simple things like eating. Last meal, he feeds you, almost shoves food into your mouth because you were 'not hungry'.

But the most odd in that, it's that you're like that just with him. Whenever you're at the race with him, with people, you're someone else. You're talkative and the first to initiate the conversation. So he thought you just weren't in good mood because of the winter.

He ends up getting up, mainly because the position he's in is hurting his arm. He opens the curtains and pulls the duvet off of you, making you react.

''Daniel!'' You shouted at him and tried to grab back the duvet but only felt the sheet of the bed. You feel arms wrap around your waist and lift you up so easily. You don't say anything and let yourself do so, while Daniel carries you to force you to stand up.

''C'mon! We said we had to sort the whole house today.'' He rummages through your closet, pulling out an old t-shirt of his and a pair of shorts, then gives them to you.

''Get ready babe, I'm not gonna do this all alone.'' He kisses you tenderly and leaves the room to give you some privacy.

He noticed that too. You both don't do things anymore. He can understand that you need space, but at this point? How long ago was the last time he saw you naked? You don't even remember.

You change lazily, and join Daniel in the kitchen. In front of your usual place on the stool, you find a slightly burnt plate of pancakes, and you can't help but smile softly. He does his best. You know that he knows.

You force yourself to eat your pancakes while Daniel is already starting to sort through the few things lying around in the kitchen. He asks you from time to time if you keep this or that thing. Once your breakfast is finished, you clear your plate and help him sort the kitchen.

Time passes and you clean every room in the house from top to bottom. You decide to finish with the room that will probably take the longest to complete, your bedroom. Daniel digs under the bed, pulling out old boxes full of different things that you didn’t unpack when you moved in. You take care of sorting the wardrobe, folding and rearranging the clothes.

Daniel digs under your side of the bed and finds a small shoebox. He sits on the bed and opens the box, while watching out of the corner of his eye that you aren't watching him do so. He hates doing that, going through your stuff. But your health is starting to worry him so much that he feels the need to do it, to reassure himself.

Inside the box, there are a few papers. He recognizes a drawing that his niece drew for you, and a smile appears on his face. There is a pearl bracelet, the one that a Daniel fan gave you two years ago. He finds a jewelry bag, it's in this bag that he gave you the necklace you wear all the time. He quickly understands that in this box, there are things that you value very much. He recognizes your diary, you write in it every evening and he never thought to look at it. He takes it in his hands and a paper falls out of it. He puts the diary down and opens the paper that was folded in half. He looks at you again, and checks that you are still focused on your task of tidying the wardrobe. He returns his attention to the piece of paper he holds in his hands. This is a text that you wrote. He reads the beginning, and the first words take the smile off his face.

‹‹I want to die.››

Simple, fast and effective.

But it hurts. It hurts more because of the fact that you write it and doesn't talk to him about it.

He doesn't read any further, not wanting to intrude too much into your life and above all, not wanting to put pressure on you.

''Babe, wha-..what is that?'' You turn around with a little smile on your face and one of his hoodies in your hands. But your smile immediately fades away when you see the paper between his hands.

''It's nothing.'' You tell him coldly, snatching the paper from his hands and putting it back in the box then sliding it under the bed. Daniel places a hand on your waist and forces you to turn towards him, despite you trying not to let him. He forces you to sit on his lap and takes you in his arms.

''Don't.. please..'' He hugs you tightly, almost taking your breath away. You feel his breath faster than usual against you and he nuzzles into your neck, running one hand up and down your back.

You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek against his hair. His scent soothes you, as usual, even if he smells slightly of sweat. But it strangely makes you feel good.

''May I ask you.. why?'' He asks you after long minutes of silence. He continues to hold you close to him, hoping he can get you to talk.

''I...I'm feeling so.. low.'' With each word you say, your voice trembles more. Tears well up in your eyes and you can't help but let them fall down your cheeks. Daniel sits a little further in the bed and this time, he presses your head against his chest while continuing to caress your back.

''It's like.. I don't know. I'm just.. I just feel like nobody understands me.'' You keep crying softly, holding back your sobs. ''Like, whatever I want to do is so hard.. just living is hard.'' Daniel lets you open up and talk to him. It's the first time he sees you like this, sobbing and shaking in his arms.

''I understand you.'' He caress your hair. ''I've been there too. And it was you who got me out of this black hole.'' he kisses your forehead as you look up at him with eyes full of hope.

''Me?..'' You repeat, more tears falling down your face.

''You gave me love, you gave me affection, you taught me to love myself and you gave me confidence in myself again.'' He smiles at you, his own eyes now wet. ''And I'm gonna do the same. I'm gonna help you. I'm gonna give you all the love I have in me, I'm gonna show you that you are enough and I'm gonna get you out of this black hole.''

His words make you cry even more and he hugs you tightly, stroking your hair and back to calm you down.

''Everything's gonna be fine. I'm here.. I'm here..'' He kisses your forehead again, determined to get you out of this hell.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 drivers #f1 x reader #fluff #daniel ricciardo #f1 driver #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x female reader #dr3 x reader #dr3 imagine #dr3 #dr3 fluff

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actiniumwrites · 1 year

Text

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒

synopsis: in which you friendzone them to protect your feelings, ignorant to the way they feel about you

characters: diluc, xiao, and kaveh x gn! reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, reverse hurt/comfort, , slight swearing (i think), mentions of alcohol/ being drunk, spoilers for kaveh’s backstory, kaveh’s part is actually so long i’m so sorry

notes: got the idea for this out of the blue, but really liked it! i had a lot of fun writing these and would honestly be down to make a part two if you guys want it. also kaveh’s part was written before he was officially released this patch, so if anything is inaccurate, i apologize!

Diluc:

When Diluc had asked you to attend an event at his house in honor of the winery, you hadn’t expected it to be so extravagant. Though, perhaps it was because it was the first time you had ever been to his house. Either way, you were in awe at the sheer luxuriousness everything seemed to possess.

“Wow, I seriously cannot believe you’ve never invited me to your house before,” you tease as your eyes glanced around the room. The dining table was huge and lined with various dishes you didn’t even know existed. Not to mention what the entire house looked like in general. You were too scared to touch anything in fear of it breaking.

“I did invite you over — several times, if you can recall. But according to you, you’re just so busy you never have the time,” the red haired male corrected you as he moved slightly behind you to guide you across the room, shoulders bumping together every so often.

“Well if I had known you were living like this maybe I would’ve made the time,” you joked, intentionally bumping your shoulder into his as you threw a smile toward him. His eyes averted themselves from your face and smiled off into the distance, completely ignoring your jests about his wealth.

The two of you had continued to joke around with each other playfully as he walked you around his house to give you a tour of sorts. You had noticed all the people around as you walked, all laughing and enjoying the delicious food and wine Diluc had provided. Even Kaeya was here, you noted to your own surprise, seemingly catching up with some of the maids.

“Oh, I almost forgot, there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Diluc interrupted your moment to observe. His hand moved to the lower half of your back to guide you in the direction of blonde haired woman in maid attire. Your hand shook hers as Diluc introduced her to you, “This is Adelinde, the head housemaid of the winery.”

You smiled and told her your name, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Diluc’s best friend.”

“Oh,” she said strangely, as if you had said something wrong. Almost seamlessly, Adelinde covered up her tone as she spoke again, “Ahem, it’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Please do enjoy yourselves tonight and let me know if you need anything.”

Diluc cleared his throat and put his hand around your shoulders as you said your goodbyes. Although, the second she was out of your sights, he dropped it, “So, how about some food?”

You hesitated, sensing something was wrong. His smile looked stiff, like it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. You could almost sense desperation within his tone, like he didn’t want you to start your usual interrogation when you thought something was wrong, “Oh um, sure.”

He walked you over to the table standing next to your side, but didn’t dare to put a hand on you like usual. It wasn’t something you often paid any attention toward, but now it just felt weird — cold even.

“I’ll go grab you some fresh wine from the cellar, take whatever you’d like,” Diluc said quickly before rushing away. Your brow furrowed as you watched him disappear from your sight.

“What’s with the frown?” a silk voice asked. Your eyes snapped up to meet the blue haired man you knew to be Diluc’s brother, Kaeya.

“Long time no see, Kaeya,” you said, turning your attention back to the food as you served yourself a plate. Kaeya grabbed one too and began filling it as well.

“Oh, you should try these, they’re delicious,” he said as he placed a small dessert on your plate, “but don’t tell Diluc I said that. Can’t have him thinking I like his baking or anything.”

He continued as he grabbed himself another glass of wine off the table next to the food, “Anyway, what’s up with the gloom expression? Don’t tell me Diluc hurt your feelings?”

“No,” you grumble. It had been awhile since you had last seen Kaeya. Not that it was on purpose, because honestly, you never had a problem with him like Diluc did. Time just didn’t seem to allow the two of you to meet aside from a few times a year. “If anything, it was the other way around. Problem is, I don’t know what I did.”

“Well if it’s any consolation, Diluc is very fond of y—“

“Kaeya. Leave them alone,” Diluc interrupts with an annoyed look, shooing Kaeya away. Kaeya leaves without a word. A sly expression was on his face, hoping you would catch on to what he was trying to tell you.

Diluc held the bottle of wine in front of him, silently offering you some. You nodded your head and he poured you a glass before making another excuse to walk off again. The same thing seems to happen a few more times before you reach the end of the night. What had started off as a fun event for the two of you to enjoy, seemed to trickle into nothing but misery for the both of you.

The walk home was quiet. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why he had offered to walk you home if he was just going to stay silent the entire time, “You didn’t have to walk me home if you’re just gonna have to walk all the way back, y’know?”

“It’s fine,” he said curtly, not even making eye contact with you, “I have to go to Angel’s Share anyway. There’s some paperwork I have to pick up.”

“Oh.”

It’s silent again for the next ten minutes of the walk. It isn’t until you’re approaching the bridge to the city that you speak up again, “Diluc?”

“Yeah?”

You sighed and stopped walking, “Listen…did I maybe, I don’t know, say or do something to upset you? Because if I did, I’m really sorry and I just want things to not be awkward between us.”

You could tell he was contemplating not answering you by the frustrated expression on his face. His mouth opened and closed a few times before he finally spoke, still staring somberly off into the distance, “Answer this honestly. What are we? What is this?” His hands gestured between you and him as he spoke. His tone is rushed and there’s bitterness behind it.

“Well, we’re friends…aren’t we?” you carefully asked, almost questioning yourself.

“That’s the problem,” Diluc finally cracked, “I don’t want to be just friends. This entire time I thought that maybe there was something more than that between us…but I suppose I was wrong.”

Your eyes widened and your hands moved to grip tightly around his own before he could walk away from you again, “Why didn’t you say anything? I could’ve told you I felt the same if you had just, I don’t know? Said something about it? How was I supposed to know you had feelings for me?”

“I’m sorry, what? So you do feel the same way?”

You put two and two together and a teasing smiled made it’s way back to your face,“Archons, was this all because I introduced myself as your best friend to Adelinde?”

“What? No, of course not,” Diluc adamantly denied your accusation. He grabbed your hand and began to pull you away while you burst out laughing at the realization, “You’ve had too much to drink.”

“No! I barely drank anything, you liar,” you punched his shoulder, “Admit it, you were upset you got friendzoned and —“

Diluc turned around swiftly, pulled you toward him and placed his lips on yours within a matter of seconds, effectively shutting you up. His fingers interlocked with yours as he pulled away and began to walk you to your house. When you arrived at your doorstep, you turned around and placed one final kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” you smiled. Diluc looked away again, failing to resist the smile that tugged at his lips. It was the first time Diluc had been genuinely happy in a long time.

He smiled as he turned away from your house to leave, “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Xiao:

Xiao felt his heart racing when he heard your voice calling his name from somewhere in Liyue. Somewhere he couldn’t pinpoint. There was pain in it, and Xiao hated when you said his name in any way that wasn’t positive.

“Xiao! Please,” he heard you call out again, this time more pained than the last. The sound of your cries echoed in his ears and a feeling of his own pain surrounded his heart.

A few seconds longer and you could’ve ended up dead. It’s all Xiao could think about when he finally made it to you, heavily breathing in and out from how scared he was to lose you.

You were covered in bruises and bathed in blood — whether or not it was your own, he wasn’t sure. Your eyes were half shut and your head was leaned back in relief at the sight of him. Several abyss mages of varying elements lie dead on the ground around you. Your polearm lay amongst them, cracked in half and dented all over.

Xiao spotted your vision a few feet away, anemo like his own. He gathered it quickly alongside your polearm before securing it on him so he could pick you up. Once his arms were wrapped carefully around you, he didn’t hesitate to teleport away and back to the inn.

“Here, lay down,” he spoke curtly. You watched through half-lidded eyes as he moved across the room to fetch his medical supplies. This wasn’t the first time he had to treat your injuries, but it wasn’t often that it was this bad.

Xiao worked quickly with your injuries, it was effortless and he was careful not to hurt you. Unbeknownst to you, his heart was racing out of control the entire time. Not only was there left over anxiety from when you had first called for him, but it had carried over and made itself at home as he worked away at your injuries. There was too much red oozing out of your body and the bruises were only growing.

What if he hadn’t gotten there on time? What if he was only a few seconds later? What if he hadn’t heard you call out for him?

“Archons, I am feeling so much better,” you interrupted his poisonous thoughts. Your leg was lifted into the air as you inspected the bandages wrapped around it and all the bloodied rags that sat beside you on the floor.

Xiao’s eyes hardened for a moment while looking over you, an unreadable expression within them, “Please do not get injured like this again.”

Contrary to his eyes, yours softened and you took his hand in yours, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, I just—“

“It’s fine,” he cut you off when he began to feel weird, not used to people caring about his feelings. Xiao helped you up and out of the bed, his arms wrapped around yours to keep you stable as he walked you to the bathroom counter to finally change out of your bloodied clothes.

Your face was close to his as you spoke, “No, Xiao, really. I can’t thank you enough for all the times you’ve helped me out and even allowed me to help you. You just mean so much to me and I’m so lucky to have you as a friend.”

‘So lucky to have you as a friend’

It echoed in his mind over and over again, more than the voices of his late yaksha friends. For once, another source of pain had finally outmatched his past.

You didn’t see him how he saw you.

Xiao felt his body go cold at the realization. He remained oddly silent as he helped you to the bathroom, not even bothering to give you a response or so much as a simple nod. As soon as you were actually in the bathroom, he backed up immediately and nodded before mumbling something about needing to take care of some other stuff. He had even disappeared before you could utter a goodbye.

Not returning for hours was something you were used to when it came to Xiao. He wasn’t social at all, and that was something you readily accepted when you first offered to become friends with him — even if he declined over and over again.

But hours turned into days and days turned into a week. Xiao hadn’t returned since that night you were injured.

You weren’t sure what happened to him. Maybe he was hurt while out protecting, or maybe he was just in one of those weird social slumps again. But when Xiao finally ran into you one day, it was undeniably awkward between the two of you.

“Xiao?” you urgently called out to him, a mix of worry and shock in your voice, “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied bluntly, eyes barely looking at yours. He looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there.

You squinted your eyes, analyzing him carefully, “That’s it? I haven’t seen you for a week! I get injured and then all of the sudden you just freak out and leave? It doesn’t make any sense. Listen, if something happened, you can tell—“

“Nothing happened. I said I’m fine,” he cut you off before turning his body and grabbing his polearm, ready to teleport off like he always did. You quickly grabbed his arm before he could though, a tight grip that wasn’t painful but made sure he couldn’t escape.

“Let go.”

“No.”

“Ugh, could you stop holding my hand like that.”

“Huh?” Your phase morphed into shock, confused as to why he suddenly cared about you holding his hand. You’d done it in the past, so it wasn’t like it was anything new to him. Besides, you were always careful not to do anything to freak him out.

“If we are just friends, then I do not want you holding my hand like that,” Xiao said before pulling his hand from yours with a harsh sigh.

“Wait, what?” you asked quickly before he could leave, “What does this have to do with us being friends?”

Xiao stared blankly at you for a few seconds, like he was contemplating whether or not he should speak again, until finally, he confessed, “The other day…you thanked me for being such a good friend. That is not what I want.”

A pang hit your chest and a tiny prick rippled behind your eyes at his confession, “You don’t want to be friends anymore?”

“Huh? Why would you think such idiotic things? No— I mean yes, I do want to be your friend. But I do not want to be…just friends,” Xiao explained. His cheeks were beginning to turn red and his eyes averted even more. He was nervous, you finally realized.

“You…you have feelings for me? Xiao, you should’ve told me. Avoiding me for a week straight wasn’t cool, you know?”

Xiao nods and crosses his arms, seemingly unsatisfied with your answer until you added on, “I have feelings for you too. I really like you, Xiao. I didn’t mean to make you feel like you were just a friend, but I also didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or scare you off or something.”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper. His hand twitched before it quietly reached for your own and took it in his. His grip was firm, like he was scared you would leave.

“Xiao?” You grabbed his attention when you noticed his eyes falter, like he still couldn’t quite grasp the reality of your feelings.

“Yes?”

“I really like you, okay? I don’t want you to ever think otherwise.”

Kaveh:

“Kaveh! Look at this!” your smile lit up as you dragged Kaveh toward a merchant selling various little trinkets. Kaveh willingly followed, idiotically smiling behind you at your childlike excitement. His hand tightly gripped around yours to ensure you wouldn’t go too far or get separated from him.

The two of you had decided to take a greatly needed break after working for hours upon hours each day for the past two weeks on a shiny new blueprint for a brand new Akademiya research center in the desert. The complications of what the research required versus the heat in the desert and its effect on the lab materials was making it difficult to come up with a practical, yet complex enough lab for the researchers. The headache it had brought upon the two of you was no joke, and you had finally realized that a break was the only thing that would get you through the block you were collectively stuck in.

“Hello, dears,” the old woman spoke gently, a bright smile on her face that perfectly creased her eyes. She had an immensely warm aura to her and you couldn’t help but match her smile. Kaveh glanced to you, a small smile gracing his own face as his cheeks turned slightly pink. He couldn’t help it after he saw how good you looked today.

“So,” you started, eyes bouncing around to each and every item she had to sell, “How long has your shop been open? Everything here looks so beautiful!”

“Oh, why thank you, dear! It’s been open for nearly two decades now. It is indeed strange to see how much time has passed,” she answered happily, reminiscing on the early days of her shop. She had told you how she opened it with her husband, but how he had long since passed, to which Kaveh and you had offered your respects.

Your eyes danced over all the trinkets again, but you couldn’t help but notice the little figurines that looked like creatures from your childhood. You couldn’t quite place where you knew them from, but you picked it up regardless and fidgeted with it before turning to Kaveh, “I think I’m gonna get this one, what do you think?”

“It’s cute,” he said with a gentle smile, admiring the little blue plant like figure in your hand, “I think I’ll get one in red.”

You finished paying the kind woman for your purchases and thanked her dearly once the two of you were done. The conversation had continued a little while afterward, with both you and Kaveh intrigued in the stories she kindly shared with you.

The sun was beginning to near its setting time, you noticed. The blues were fading to oranges and reds and the air was beginning to get a little colder, signaling the night was on its way.

“Thank you again,” you told her, “These are really nice, I’ll be sure to place them in my workroom so I can see it everyday!”

“Oh, that’s awfully kind of you, dear. I must say, I admire the way you treat everyone as your friend. It’s truly a rare quality to find in someone these days,” she gushed.

“Thank you! I really just try to make everyone feel comfortable and welcome,” you explained before you said your goodbyes. The woman said her goodbyes too, telling the two of you to visit her again sometime soon and tell her all about the architectural work you guys do.

Kaveh nearly stopped in his tracks as he processed the conversation the two of you just had. You hadn’t even caught the hesitation in his voice or the sudden change in his mood.

You treat everyone like that?

“Ugh, she was so nice, wasn’t she?” you rambled, but Kaveh was only half listening. Not that you had noticed that either.

“Oh, uh, yeah!” he blurted out, not entirely sure that he had even heard you correctly. His eyes followed the pattern of his shoes pressing against the floor as he swung the bag next to him back and forth, lost in thought. You didn’t question him once.

It was quiet for the rest of the walk aside from you announcing that you were tired and were going to check in for the night. Kaveh had agreed and walked you home all while hoping that you wouldn’t notice his sudden quietness.

If Kaveh was being honest, his brain felt like it was spiraling out of control.

One moment he’s walking around with you all day, enjoying his time off. And the next, he can’t stop replaying a silly conversation with an old woman who he barely knew.

The worst part is, he couldn’t help but take it personally. Being treated like he was on a pedestal and then having it ripped away is something Kaveh is used to, but he never thought he would have to go through it with you.

You made him feel special, like one of a kind. The way your eyes always lit up so brightly when you greeted him at work everyday. The way you hugged him when you were feeling down and no one else. The way you always treated him to food and drinks without ever asking him to pay you back because you knew he was struggling — and not once did you ever make him feel bad about it. The way you would jump to hold his hand when you got excited about something or when you were scared when lightning would strike.

You never did any of those things with anyone else. But all this time, you made everyone feel like they were your friend, like they were special in their own way. For all he knew, you did little things like that with everyone and made them feel like one of a kind too. Maybe Kaveh was nothing, he thought, maybe he was really just like everyone else. Just your friend and nothing more.

Kaveh bowed his head to his chest when he arrived home, his hand leaned forward to support himself as he felt the tears coming on. Being emotional or overdramatic was something Alhaitham had always criticized him for, but you? You always taught him to embrace it and let what he was feeling out. You had helped him with so much of his life and moving on toward bigger and better things, but now he couldn’t help but feel bitterness in his heart.

The keys in the blonde’s hand returned back to his pocket almost immediately after retrieving them. His palm dragged down the gray wall of Alhaitham’s house and back to his side. Kaveh couldn’t bear to enter his own home, not at this hour with such painful thoughts in his mind. Alhaitham would probably nag him anyway, and he really didn’t feel like dealing with his cruel words tonight — and Kaveh never liked when they were about you. You didn’t deserve that, even if it was just a joke.

And so he returned to the tavern once more in his life. Drinking away his problems was unhealthy, you had told him, but right now he didn’t care. You weren’t here and there was no one around to stop him from throwing back drink after drink. It had been a long time since Kaveh had been truly drunk, but today was enough to turn him away from sobriety.

“Kaveh. Get up.” A voice echoed painfully in his ears.

“[Name]?” he mumbled out incoherently as he blindly reached toward the figure in front of him. Their hand swatted his away before swooping under to pick him up. Kaveh mumbled your name a few more times, desperately trying to figure out what was happening.

“Why are you at the Tavern, Kaveh? Have you not learned your lesson about drinking?”

Oh. That’s who it was. Kaveh should have known by the sharpness in the voice or the annoying familiarity it held.

“Alhaitham? Get off of me,” he tried pushing the Scribe away. Alhaitham didn’t budge as he slammed a few bills on the table and carried Kaveh out of the Tavern. Lambad waved him off, but thanked him for taking care of the architect.

Your name continued to slur from his mouth, blending together into what almost sounded like gibberish. Not to mention the near beating Alhaitham had endured as he carried Kaveh around Sumeru.

You, on the other hand, hadn’t expected a knock at your door at nearly two in the morning.

“Alhaitham? What’s going on? Why do you have Kaveh?” you quickly questioned. Alhaitham shoved Kaveh toward you, a pained groan falling from his lips as he fell into you. The Scribe explained the situation to you. How he had never seen Kaveh come home that night, but later found him at Lambad’s Tavern drinking himself to death as he cried to the sound of your name.

You could only muster a silent nod out, confused but entirely willing to take care of Kaveh. You cared a lot for him after all. Alhaitham had shown himself out afterward, telling you to drop him back off tomorrow so he won’t bother you too much with all his whining. You breathed out a strained laugh and then shut the door before you turned your attention back to Kaveh and helped him to your couch.

“Kaveh?” you asked gently as you tucked a blanket over his shivering body. Teary red eyes stared back at you blankly, refusing to answer. You sighed and then nodded, accepting he may not have been willing to tell you anything. And although you had never outright admitted it, drunk Kaveh was not someone you enjoyed dealing with, “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you.”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t help me anyway,” he scoffed and turned away like a child who just got told they couldn’t have their favorite toy. You wanted to say your patience was wearing thin, but honestly, you could never truly be mad at Kaveh.

“Kaveh.”

It was silent for a moment. You could only see about half of Kaveh’s face as he buried the other half in the side of the couch with his hair covering parts of his eyes. The quiver of his lip, however, was not amiss to you. Neither was the quiet sniffle or the tears that gently slid down his face.

“It’s nothing,” he whispered to you, voice cracking as a hand quickly moved to his mouth to muffle his cries. He hoped you didn’t hear, but he knew you weren’t stupid.

“It’s not nothing. You’re hurt, Kaveh,” you rubbed his back. Kaveh leaned into your touch and brought his head up to meet your eyes.

Teary eyes stared into yours and he sighed before speaking, giving into you like he wished he always could have, “I thought I was more than just a friend to you. But I was stupid and I realized today that I’m not any more special than anyone else. You treat me just like you treat everyone else because you’re so kind and caring and— Archons, I am so stupid to believe that we were ever more than that.”

Kaveh paused before he spoke again, voice shakier than before, “I really don’t want you to leave, but I get it if you want to or if you don’t want to be friends anymo—”

Your lips were on his before he could finish his sentence. When you pulled back, you noticed his eyes widened like he had sobered up all at once, “You are special to me, Kaveh. I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t.”

Kaveh smiled as a few more tears spilled out of his eyes, “You really mean it?”

“With my whole heart.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #diluc #xiao #kaveh #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #kaveh x reader #kaveh x you #kaveh x y/n

1K notes · View notes

ghouljams · 8 months

Note

Okay, what about an actual ghost Ghost? Like some haunted house type stuff? I mean the whole 9 yards. Dead trees, big creaky metal fence with spikes, ominously timed thunder? A weird old man that tells you to ‘stay away from that house’ before mysteriously disappearing. Not to mention the fact that the real estate person didn’t tell you about the long murderous history the house has and if you just so happen to stumble into a secret room? What’s the worst that could happen, right?

God, I need another au like I need a hole in my head but I am a Ghost fan first. Also I could not get this very specific image out of my head. Reader as a first time home owner who never thought they'd buy a house because the economy and all that, but this place is so cheap they just jump at the chance. And once they're in that's it, nothing is getting them to move, not even an ominous house with a murderous history. They're refurbishing the whole place, making it livable, even a Ghost won't stop them.

You sit in the middle of a salt circle in your living room watching the whole place fall apart. Your books ripped off the shelf, your lamps thrown against the walls your photos are falling off of, your furniture shakes and shivers menacingly, the whole thing reminds you of a self contained tornado. Spooky. Or it would be if you hadn't been dealing with this for the last few months. Horror stories get a little boring when you've been living them, daily monotony starts to kick in somewhere between the flickering lights and flying knives.

You lean forward when you hear your knife block tip over, steal embedding itself into the wall opposite you as your kitchen knives whiz past. He always gives you some indication before the dangerous stuff starts flying. Sort of soft for a dead soldier, you think. You sit back up, sniff and check your phone. You'd bet you have another minute of this at least.

"Can we speed up your tantrum, I have work in the morning," You remind your ghastly roommate. Everything pauses, floating in the air around you with an eerie silence. Then it all comes crashing down, everything in your immediate surroundings hits the floor. It reminds you of your little cousin throwing a toy on the ground because you threatened to take it away. Even your bookshelf tips over. That's new, considering it came with the house, usually your ghost leaves it up.

You sigh and push yourself to your feet, blink up at the proud shadow that stands behind you when you turn. Their shoulders raise and lower like they're out of breath, the action so thoroughly alive that you almost mistake the wraith for something human.

"Tea," he rasps at you.

"I thought you'd appreciate something new," You tell him with a raised brow.

"Don't like," He breathes, getting more than a single word out of your ghost is a slow -and rather recent- process, "new."

"Yeah, I'm getting that." You look around your house, your shared house, it's clear the previous resident doesn't appreciate what you're doing with the place. Your eyes set on the only untouched corner of the house. A little corner shelf holding candles and a cracked black mug, charcoal drawings with rolled edges and wilting flowers. "Fine," you relent, "no more coffee."

#cod x reader #x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost au

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evansbby · 2 years

Text

𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, stepcest, noncon, dubcon, daddy kink, forced babying, use of petnames, oral - female receiving, face riding, fingering, anal fingering, spanking, coercion, blackmail, dd/lg, dirty talk, dumbification.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Your stepdad Ari has a strange obsession with you, but will he listen when you try to confront him about it?

𝐀/𝐍: Wow, it’s me with another surprise Ari fic! I wrote this quickly in the past few hours, and I hope you enjoy. But please read the warnings, Ari is super depraved and twisted in this! Based on this ask and drabble!

“That’s such a pretty dress, honey.” Your stepdad, Ari, compliments you, dabbing the corner of his mouth with the lacy white napkin before folding it up and placing it back on the side of his plate. “It’s nice to see you making such an effort for dinnertime, in a pretty dress instead of those jeans and sweatpants you’re always wearing.”

You scowl but say nothing, your fork pushing your food around your plate while your mother simpers in her seat next to you. She reaches out to pat Ari’s tanned arm, “Oh, Ari. Ever the traditional man, aren’t you? Always preferring girls in dresses.” She laughs, although you find nothing funny about any of this, “Although I must agree with your father, honey – it’s nice to see you make an effort, and you look so lovely in pink.”

“He’s not my father.” You mumble, trying to maintain concentration on the lumpy mashed potatoes on your plate. You’re completely aware that you sound like a bratty child sulking at the dinner table – but you can’t help it.

Ari raises his hand to silence your mother before she launches into a lecture about how you shouldn’t be rude about your stepfather and how Ari may as well be your father with how well he takes care of you.

“Well, it’s a very pretty dress nevertheless. And you’re a very pretty girl.” Ari says, pink tongue running over his lips in a motion so quick that you’re not sure your mother sees it – but you definitely have. “But please stop playing with your food, baby.”

You gape at him in disbelief before turning to your mother – but she’s just looking at Ari in total, blind adoration. Are you the only one who sees how weird he’s being? From the way he looks at you to the overly babying tone with which he speaks to you? And the pet-names? The sugary sweet pet-names that give you a toothache every time they float past his perfect, plump lips?

Wait, what?

“Why don’t you stop treating me like a child?” You shoot back, looking your stepdad right in his clear blue eyes. He blinks, thick lashes fanning his cheekbones while your mother lets out a melodramatic gasp. “I’m a fully grown woman, Ari. I’m in college. Stop treating me like I’m some sort of baby. If you want a baby then just have one.”

There’s an awkward silence followed by a sniff of disgust from your mother. “How dare you speak to your father like that? How dare you? After everything he’s done for you? Letting us move into his house, paying your college fees, buying you whatever you want–”

“I didn’t ask for any of that!” You stand up, knowing you have to take yourself out of the situation before it gets any more out of hand than it already has. You didn’t mean to cause a scene, but you’re just so sick of Ari treating you like you’re a baby. You’re also sick of your mother being so blindly devoted to him as if he’s some sort of God. When really, he’s just… Ari.

Ari, with the big, buff arms and the washboard abs and the long, wavy hair that shines and the bright blue eyes and the lopsided smirk of a smile, and – wait, what?

“You need to learn to be thankful, young lady.” Your mother hisses, “Or else you won’t be welcome to stay in this house during your summer breaks. And we all know how much you love all the perks that come with this place, like the pool, the sauna, the tennis courts – need I go on?”

Sometimes you really hate your mother.

Throughout all this, Ari sits quietly with his arms folded across his chest and an unperturbed look on his face. As if he’s drinking in the conflict between you and your mother, the quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips…

You huff, turning on your heel and hating how the baby pink dress floats and flounces around you. You hate everything about it – it’s not Halloween and you’re not a fairy-princess. You can’t believe Ari had made you wear it. Shuddering, you think back to earlier, when you’d come out of the shower and seen the pink velvet box on your bed, along with a note:

My precious baby girl, wear this dress for me tonight. If you don’t, I’ll tell your mother that you shoplifted from Hollister last weekend. Love, your daddy.

And his audacity to act all surprised when you’d showed up downstairs in the pink monstrosity of a dress. Well, you’d had enough now. Enough of wearing the stupid, uncomfortable dress, enough of Ari, enough of your melodramatic mother, enough of this dinner, enough of just about everything.

You run up the stairs and slam the door to your bedroom without a second thought.

***

Your mother had married Ari last fall while you were still at college. They’d eloped, and you’d come home to a new stepfather. You didn’t care much at first – your mother dated around a lot and you were used to all her different boyfriends.

But Ari was… different. He was younger than your mother, but still almost double your age. He looked like he belonged on some sort of playgirl catalogue – all beefy and tanned and muscular, with an attractive smattering of dark hair all over his chest (you know because he liked roaming around the house shirtless more often than not).

At first, he seemed charming enough, with a nice smile and sparkling eyes. But there was something off in the way he looked at you, how his eyes would linger a bit too long, how he’d use pet names with you that he never used with your mother. How he’d coddle you and baby you and do weird things like wipe your mouth with his handkerchief after you’d eaten ice cream and there’d been some residue around your lips.

And now, the whole dress thing. Admittedly – it’s very weird. Now, you lie on your bed clad in your Led Zeppelin tee and panties, twirling his note in your fingers. You wonder if your mother would finally see that there’s something off about Ari if you showed her the note, or if she’d just turn a blind eye because she thinks her new husband is absolutely perfect? You sigh.

The knock on your door has you rolling your eyes.

“Honey? It’s me.” Ari. You stare at the ceiling and breathe out slowly.

“Go away.”

Your stepdad does the complete opposite, and you curse him for having a master key to every room when you hear the click of your door unlocking before he steps inside, shutting the door behind him.

“I said go away, Ari. Why is it that you can’t respect my privacy?”

“You can’t respect me in my own house, so why should I respect your privacy, honey?” Ari chuckles softly, his chest rumbling with quiet amusement. He’s wearing his light blue button-down shirt, but he’s got the top three buttons undone, giving you a peak of that virile chest hair that you often can’t stop looking at, and –

“Look, Ari, I’m clearly not dressed appropriately,” You gesture down to your tee which barely covers your panties, “So maybe you should get out.”

The older man tsk-tsks; “Honey, how many times have I told you not to call me Ari? It’s disrespectful. I’d much prefer it if you called me Dad.” He smirks, settling down on the side of your bed – alarmingly close to you, “Or daddy. I think I prefer daddy more.”

“I told you, if you want to be a dad so badly, then just have your own baby.” You scoff in disdain, tugging your tee down so it covers more of your legs and cursing when the material’s too short to make any significant difference – why had you chosen to wear such a tiny tee tonight? Oh yes – you hadn’t expected your stepfather to invade your privacy.

“Have my own baby, huh?” Your stepfather looks at you thoughtfully, licking his lips as his hungry gaze drinks you in, “You know, I might just take you up on that offer one day.”

You’re too busy trying to get your dumb shirt to hide more of your legs to really acknowledge the weight of his words, a scowl on your lips and eyes narrowed.

“Why do you insist on wearing such ugly things?” Ari frowns, reaching out to finger the fraying hem of your tattered tee, “Led Zeppelin? That’s not something little girls like you listen to.”

You raise an eyebrow, “You have no idea what I do or don’t listen to.” (Although he’s right – you don’t much care for Led Zeppelin, you’d bought the shirt because it was cheap and had a cool logo, but he doesn’t need to know that.)

“I could buy you such pretty things to sleep in,” Ari murmurs as he continues to stroke the material of your shirt, his fingertips so dangerously close to your skin – and you don’t know why you don’t pull away. “Honey, all you need to do is make me a list of everything you want, and you know I’d buy it all for you and more. Pretty pink silks and lace – that’s what you should be sleeping in. Not this ugly, tattered shit.”

Quickly, before you know what’s happening, he lifts your shirt up slightly, a smirk quickly adorning his handsome features, “I approve of your little girl panties, though. They’re quite cute.”

You bat his hands away, heat rising to your face and goosebumps covering your arms and legs as you inch away from him, “This is so fucking inappropriate, Ari. You need to leave.”

Your stepfather doesn’t budge, instead turning his attention to your room; your dresser which is overflowing with clothes, your vanity table scattered with makeup, the various posters on your wall. He sighs; “You know, I was so excited when I heard you were gonna be staying with us over summer break. I wanted to decorate your room just how a little girl like you would like it – all pink and white and cute.”

Wrinkling your nose, you cross your arms over your chest, “That sounds fucking gross.”

He continues as if he hasn’t heard you: “But your mother said you’d prefer muted colours, beige and white and whatnot. So that’s what we went for.” His hand somehow finds itself resting on your bare thigh, calloused fingers tracing shapes over your sensitive skin, “But we could make the guestroom into your little girl bedroom. What do you think? I’d keep it locked at all times, so your mommy would never have to know.”

The alarm bells in your head are loud and clear, telling you to run, run, run for the hills and never look back because Ari is acting insane right now. You slowly shift away from him, despite the fact that his touch on your leg spreads an inexplicable warmth throughout your body.

“Honey, come here.” Ari’s head snaps up suddenly. Before, he’d been staring at his own fingers as they skimmed over your thigh but now his bright blue eyes are boring into yours and he pats his own leg, “Come sit on daddy’s lap.”

You clear your throat, “Um. No thanks. I’m good here.” You wonder if you can bolt into the bathroom and slip on a pair of leggings just to escape his burning gaze which seems glued to your bare legs.

“Honey. Come here. Now.” There’s an edge to his voice that you don’t want to mess with. You’ve seen him and your mother fight, you’ve seen him angry and it’s not a pretty sight. “Or else I’ll tell your mother about you shoplifting.”

You clear your throat, trying to stand your ground, “Don’t try to blackmail me, Ari. I’ll tell her all about your creepy note you left for me. She’d hate to find out that her husband’s a perv, wouldn’t she?”

The laugh that leaves Ari’s lips is soft yet maniacal, calculated; his eyes squeezing shut for a second before fluttering open and zeroing in on you, “Oh honey. You don’t wanna play that game with me.”

“Oh yeah? What if I do? What if I’m sick of you always hovering over me, acting like some creep? Maybe it’s time mom knew what you really are.”

“My sweet baby girl – you think she’d believe you? You think she’d ruin her perfect suburban fantasy because her bratty daughter decided to act out and tell some lies? You think she’d ever believe anything that comes out of your mouth? Believe anything you say over my word, the word of her husband? Think again, baby girl.”

You bite your lip at the painful truth – your mother’s whole world revolves around Ari.

“You’re a piece of shit.” You mutter in disbelief.

“Get. In. My. Lap.”

He doesn’t give you any further chance to argue, strong hands gripping on to you tightly and pulling you on top of him, till you’re sat on his knee with a scowl of pure hate on your face and arms crossed protectively over your chest, body rigid in defiance.

“That’s my girl,” Ari sighs, kissing the top of your head, his lips lingering there for a while and you can feel his hot breath against your scalp and for some reason it makes you shiver, “Now, doesn’t that feel good? To just stop fighting and listen to your daddy?”

He rocks you for a while, sighing in contentment every now and again, his lips brushing against your forehead as his fingers playing with your hair, twining it and twisting it, smoothing it down and tucking it behind your ear, “My little baby girl, doesn’t it feel nice when daddy holds you? You’re all relaxed now, aren’t you? Can’t tell you how badly I’ve wanted to hold you like this, feel your tiny little body on top of me. God, honey, daddy loves you so much.”

“Y-You’re crazy,” Your voice is high with panic, hands twitching to pinch him or prod him in the eye and make a run for it – but you know he’d overpower you. Fleetingly, you wonder if you should scream, scream for the neighbours or scream for your mother.

“Don’t even think about it.” Ari seems to read your mind, “Be a good girl for me tonight, baby. I need you to be good tonight. Daddy’s had a rough day at work, and I deserve to have my baby girl take care of me just like how I take care of you.”

“M-Mom can take care of you,” you try, wondering why the hell he’s in your room instead of being a normal person and fucking his own wife.

Ari shakes his head, pressing another kiss to your forehead, “No, honey. I need you. Your mommy doesn’t do it for me. Every time I fuck her, I push her head into the pillow and I imagine it to be you. You’re my sweet little baby, you’re the one who deserves to be in my bed, who deserves to be underneath me. And soon, you will be.”

“Ari, you don’t have to do this. I’m not… I don’t… I wouldn’t do that to mom, Ari, please–”

“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” He snaps suddenly, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger and forcing you to look up at him, your scared eyes looking straight into his crazed ones, “Call me daddy. In fact, say: daddy, please stop.”

“D-Daddy, please stop.” You whimper, and Ari throws his head back and groans.

“Fuck, baby. It gets me so hard when you beg and act like you don’t want it. Say it again, exactly like that.” He slaps your bare thigh, making you yelp in pain, “I said, say it!”

“Please stop, daddy! I don’t want this! An’ I’m not acting, I genuinely don’t want this, Ari– I mean daddy, please just stop!”

Through your begging and pleading, you feel the unmistakable hardness of his crotch underneath you, his boner so undeniably hard and heavy, poking into your ass from below and it makes you whimper yet at the same time you feel these alien sparks running up and down your legs. Fuck, fuck, fuck – ignore it!

His experienced fingers find themselves between your legs, his pointer finger slipping up and down the fabric of your panties which is inexplicably soaked – leaving you feeling horrified and more than a little bit scared. “Now honey, why don’t you take off this shirt that little girls like you have no business wearing, and put on that pretty dress daddy bought for you?”

Less than two minutes later, you find yourself standing in front of your stepdad, between his legs while he sits on your bed and looks up at you with maniacal and lust filled navy eyes. You have the poufy pink dress back on, the light pink tulle flouncing around your waist and hips, the hem resting a few inches above your knees.

“My little princess.” Ari coos, “I wish you could see how adorable you look. Now, hand daddy your little panties.”

You swallow, breathing hard, nails digging into your palms as you take a deep breath. Something compels you not to argue any further, reaching down to step out of your panties, hands shaking as you hand them to him. He all but snatches them from you, bringing them up to his nose immediately and taking an obscene sniff.

“God, love how sweet your little baby pussy smells,” He says it almost dreamily, “I’ll add this to my collection, sweetheart.”

His… collection? You barely have time to ponder over what he means by that, instead focusing in shock and awe when he brings your panties to his mouth, sucking on them like they’re some kind of popsicle, closing his eyes in pleasure as he practically makes out with your panties and your juices that were stuck to them that now stick to his tongue and lips.

“Delicious,” Ari smiles, stuffing your panties into his pocket before eying you up and down again, “Now twirl for daddy, baby. I want to see you in your little princess dress properly.”

You frown – what is even happening right now? You’d look fucking stupid, twirling around for him in this little girl dress, a pawn in his sick, twisted game.

“Honey,” Ari says warningly, and that’s all it takes for you to begin twirling, “Slower, baby. Show off your goods, let daddy see properly.” You feel like you’re an object at an auction, Ari’s own personal auction where only he has claim to you.

“God, you’re so fucking pretty. Love the way your little ass peaks out from under the tulle,” He reaches out to give your ass cheek a quick squeeze, and you feel your heart lurch along with your pussy. “And daddy’s so proud of you for putting your dress on all by yourself. I know putting clothes on can be hard, honey. That’s why daddy’s here to help you. But you did it all by yourself, and for that – you deserve a reward.”

You blanche at how much he’s babying you, wrinkling your nose, “You’ve got to be kidding m–” He shoots you a warning look that has you clamp your mouth shut almost instantly.

Your stepfather pulls you into his lap once more, stroking you everywhere; your arms, your legs, his lips raining kisses all over your face – as if you’re his personal doll that he’s dressed up to match his sick, specific tastes, and now he’s got you all to himself to do with what he pleases.

“Now, sweetie, you know what this is?” Knocked out of your reverie, your body jolts into an explosion of sparks when you feel his hand once again between your legs, his thick fingers brushing against the hood of your clit.

“Y-Yes.”

He frowns, “Say: No, daddy, I’m just a baby.”

What kind of a sick roleplay was this?! You’d been with guys in college who were kinky, but this was a whole different level. So why do you feel your pussy clench when he orders you to say those words? You swallow hard for the umpteenth time.

“N-No, daddy. I don’t know what that is. I’m just a baby.”

Ari licks his lips in pure, unadulterated lust, “Oh honey, this is your little princess button. It’s special because only daddy is allowed to touch it. No one else – not even yourself.”

You practically convulse off his lap when he lifts the hood, finger ghosting against your clit and sending sparks up and down your body, “Your princess button is what makes babies like you cum – that’s when you give daddy your sweet cream, got it? That’s just one of the lessons daddy’s gonna teach you tonight.”

It’s crazy how you find yourself nodding, your body playing along with his sick game.

You wait with baited breath as Ari continues with his twisted “lesson,” his finger meandering down your slit and gathering your juices which have now begun to drip down onto the denim of his jeans below you. He reaches your hole and stops, swirling his finger around your entrance, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Now this, sweet girl, this is your cunt.” Ari says bluntly, swirling and gathering your wetness, spreading it around your pussy lips and making you sigh and grip the collar of his shirt tightly, “But you’re just a baby, you’re not allowed to use that word. So you’ll just call it your special princess part. Now tell me, what’s this called?” He suddenly jerks a finger inside of you, and it’s so thick that your body almost rejects it, pussy squelching noisily as he curls his finger upwards, trying to stuff it inside of your slippery walls.

“AH, daddy! It’s my special princess part!” You cry, and now you’re practically throbbing down there, willing to partake in his depraved shenanigans if it means it’ll bring you relief. You’re well and truly gone, fucked, beyond saving. And the fact that your mother sleeps in the next room whilst you’re here with her husband’s finger up your cunt has you squeezing around his digit even harder.

“Fuck, baby, I love how tight your little baby cunt is, how you’re milking my finger. You’re so tiny, aren’t you? So tight with just one of my fingers barely inside of you. You’ll milk my fucking cock; I know you will. God, baby, daddy has to taste you.”

And that’s how you find yourself hovering on top of him, your stepdad lying on your bed with his strong hands gripping your hips, guiding you up to his face, your pretty pink dress flouncing around you.

“Hold your dress up and sit on daddy’s face, sweetie.” Ari orders you, a look of maniacal anticipation on his face.

“I’ve never… I haven’t done this before, daddy.” You say softly – and it’s true. Whilst some of your college boys have attempted to go down on you, they’ve either grown impatient or you’ve just shoved them off because whatever they did just didn’t feel good. You’ve never sat on someone’s face, though, but Ari looks more determined than ever when he hears you say that.

“Oh honey, those college boys haven’t been treating you right at all, have they?” He coos, putting on that sickeningly sweet voice that you’ve come to associate with him doing something depraved to you, “Bet they couldn’t even make you cum. And I bet their cocks weren’t as big as mine, but that’s okay sweet girl, you’ll find out all about that soon enough.”

And then he jerks you downwards, making you sink your pussy down on his waiting face. You jolt forwards, gasping when you feel your soft, wet folds against his face and grabbing onto his hair for leverage.

“Oh, oh my gosh…” You can’t help but whimper, the sensation feeling so different, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“Now honey, I want you to use daddy’s face. Ride me, rub your little baby princess cunt all over daddy’s face and make yourself cum, okay baby? Daddy skipped dessert tonight and wants to taste your sweet cream.”

If you’re the princess he keeps saying you are, then Ari’s definitely the villain of your story. The dragon who traps the princess around a pit of fire, revelling in your helplessness, each cry that comes out of your mouth pure music to his ears. There’s no winning in this situation, but your body’s already chosen which path it wants to take…

Slowly, you begin to rock your hips. Your movements are timid, hesitant, confused, until Ari grips your hips and grinds you down hard, his tongue so hard and pointed as he swirls it around and around in circles around your soft wetness, making you pant like a bitch in heat, a wanton whore who’s been craving her master all day…

“Ah, daddy! Y-Your beard!” It’s thick and prickly, causing delicious friction as you rut against it – reminding you how it’s a man underneath you, a man twice your age.

“Mm, I know daddy’s beard hurts a bit, sweet girl,” Ari’s voice is muffled, the vibrations delicious against your quivering pussy, “But it’s a good kind of hurt, one that’ll make your baby pussy all excited. Now don’t hold back, baby. Ride your daddy’s face.”

You’re so riled up that you don’t need to be told twice, letting out another moan as you begin to rock your hips again, faster this time when you feel the sparks begin to build inside of you. You’re so embarrassingly wet, your juices pouring out of your fuckholes, coating his face and making it glisten as you rub your pussy all over him.

“Ah, ah, ah!” You cry out, your gasps high-pitched as his nose nudges against your clit, and you almost fall forward in delighted surprise when Ari manoeuvres you slightly, enveloping your engorged button between his lips and giving it a harsh suck, practically making out with it as you continue to rock your hips, lewd squelching sounds bouncing across the walls of the room.

“That’s right, baby, use your daddy’s face. Let mommy know exactly what you’re doing, rubbing your baby cunt all over her husband’s face,” Ari whispers filthily, one of his hands still holding on to your hips to steady you, the other one drawing back and then swatting you hard across your ass. The slap catches you off-guard, sending thrills down your body as you cry out way too loudly.

“Oh, fuck, daddy!”

“That’s right baby, it’s your daddy that’s making you feel this good. Remember that.” Ari says cockily, slapping your ass once more before slipping his hand up, fingers entering your pussy. And this time, he practically forces two of his digits in, and you cry out at the sheer size – how will you ever fit his dick inside of you? When two of his fingers cause you so much pain?

Roughly, he begins pumping his fingers in and out of you, wet slapping sounds filling the room as he continues to suck at your clit. And it’s when you feel his teeth bare against your bundle of nerves, it’s when he bites down lightly that your legs twitch and flail and you scream bloody murder, yelling out his name, yelling out daddy, throwing your head back and moaning with no care in the world that your mother’s in the next room because you’re squirting all over his face.

“FUCK! Daddy, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Ari’s quick to keep your hips pinned down on his face, not letting you move even when it gets too much, your pussy twitching and sensitive, legs boneless like jelly as you almost sag around him.

“No, baby girl. One orgasm’s not enough. Give daddy another one. And you better work for it. Keep riding my fucking face, baby. My little baby with your cute little pink princess dress. Fuck, you’re making your step-daddy so hard right now, you have no idea.”

Grinding and rubbing against his stubbled face, newfound thrill overtakes your body at the sight of your stepdad below you, his brown waves fisted in your hands, his face glistening with your juices as his tongue licks around his lips before returning to your pussy. And you’re enamoured by just how much of your cream is on his face, and how much of your slick is still pouring out of your pussy – it’s like you’re leaking and it’s all for him.

“D-Daddy, my pussy won’t stop leaking,” You lament, surprising yourself with how helpless you sound, but you can’t help it.

“That’s because your little princess parts want daddy so badly,” Your daddy explains to you, “And I’m nice enough to let you cum again, so fucking ride me.”

And again, Ari grinds your pussy over his face, his tongue flattening up to lick a long trail up and down your slit before swirling around and around, sucking, biting, nipping, your slick leaking on his face and dripping down on the mattress below. God, you’ve never been this wet ever before…

“Fuck, my little princess, you’re so fucking hot.” Ari moans, giving your ass another hard smack, and then another, admiring how the flesh jiggles softly and how you moan in pain at his increasingly hard smacks, “I bet this baby ass is a virgin, huh?” Another slap, “Answer me, you dumb fucking baby.”

“Y-Yes! Had nothin’ up there, daddy! Nothing ever!” You cry, squealing in pleasure when he sucks on your clit again at your words – he’s clearly happy with your response.

But what you don’t expect is your stepfather to immediately remove his two soaking digits from your pussy, spreading your ass cheeks and rubbing the ring of your tight asshole, spreading your slick before pushing past the barrier of muscle, and you let out a howl of pain.

“Daddy, n-no! Don’t want anything up there, please!” You cry, wriggling but all that does is cause delicious friction, his beard burning your pussy lips and the insides of your thighs, his nose gliding over your clit and making you moan once more, and you’re so obscenely wet that you think he might drown in your arousal.

“Little babies like you don’t get a say in what goes up their baby ass.” Ari says sweetly, stroking your hip with one hand as he shoves his finger up your puckered hole with the other, and despite your protests, you can’t help but grind down on him. Because the delicious feeling of fullness is too addicting, especially when it’s something as taboo as your asshole being stuffed with your stepdad’s thick fingers.

Slowly, he begins to fuck your asshole with his pointer finger, and you resume riding his face, a death grip on his hair as you use him to chase your own pleasure.

“What a tight little ass my baby’s got,” Ari coos, voice muffled yet you still clench at his words, so close to your high because you get off on the depravity of it all, “Can’t wait to fill all your holes, baby. You love my finger up your ass but you’d love my cock even more. And the feel of daddy’s hot cum in your asshole? I’ll plug you up with a toy and make you keep it in there all day, princess. God, daddy hasn’t even begun to show you everything I’m gonna do to you, you just wait.”

Somehow, his twisted promises are just riling you up more, and now you can’t remember how, earlier tonight, you were denying his advances. It seems your stepdad is the only one who can scratch the itch inside of you, this itch that thrives off of being humiliated, being babied, being owned like how he’s owning you right now.

“Oh, oh, fuck, daddy! Feel so full, so full!” You cry, rocking harder against him, faster as you fuck yourself on his tongue and the wonderful friction it’s creating against your baby pussy. And Ari tries to add another finger to your puckered hole, but you’re too small, way too small for his huge digits.

“Oh, you’re full alright.” Ari remarks with a chuckle, “Looks like daddy’s stuffed you to the brim with just one finger. That’s alright, sweet baby. We have all the time in the world to stretch you out. I’m sure your mommy won’t mind.”

And with that, he clamps down hard on your clit, sucking on it like his life depends on it, making out with it, biting it, moving you forwards and backwards and sideways all over his face, making a slippery mess that has you moaning and crying screaming his name in abandon as you squirt all over his face for the second time.

“Daddy – AH! Fuck, daddy!” You clutch on to his hair, the collar of his shirt, his bicep, anything you can get your hands on as you ride out your high on his face 0 which is so indecently wet with your juices. It’s the most intense orgasm of your life, shooting stars behind your eyes that leave your entire body shaking with pleasure, red hot waves of pleasure that only Ari has ever made you feel.

You whimper when he finally lets you go, sagging down onto the mattress like a limp doll who’s puppeteer is finally done with her, the overwhelming nature of your orgasm making tears well in your eyes as Ari reaches out to stroke your cheek.

“What a good girl. Thank you for giving me your sweet cream. You taste just like a dream.”

“You’re welcome, daddy.” You say – and you don’t need to be prompted this time.

Ari pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours, and you can taste yourself on him as he makes out with you languidly, taking charge like only a man like him could, “My sweet, precious little baby,” He coos, “That was only lesson number one. We have a long way to go, and by the end of it, I want you to take your mommy’s place on my bed next to me. What do you say, sweet baby, you ready to be my little baby wife?”

THE END.

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